


The Age Of Miracles

by thelilacfield



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Light Angst, Team as Family, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-12-13 10:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 68,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11757540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: "What is taking so long, Peterson? Get those prisoners to their cells now!""It's the witch, sir.""Well, slap a pair of handcuffs on her and get her to her cell now!""We can't, sir, she's-""She's what? Wrecked the medical bay? Injured someone? That's what we got the collar for!""Sir, she's pregnant."





	1. the heat of the moment

**A/N:** So this was inspired by a prompt which I now can't find that called for seeing any of the MCU women dealing with a pregnancy that the father was unaware of. As a shipper of scarletvision, I entertained this idea for a while before starting to write it, and I hope I'm doing this storyline justice! Hope everyone enjoys reading this, and please let me know if you do! The next chapter will be up ASAP

 **Quick warning:** As is the nature of fics involving pregnancy, there is some discussion of medical things and, in this chapter in particular, vomit. I've kept things as light and implicit as possible, but I'm making sure to warn for those very uncomfortable with anything medical.

* * *

The knock on the door interrupts her raging internal debate over whether to take a third pair of boots to Nigeria, and she calls out, "Come in!" and crams the third into her backpack, raising a mental finger to Steve's pedantic rules about not bringing a bag too heavy to carry. Magic could carry all of her belongings and Steve's pitifully empty pack along with it.

Vision peers around the door, and she pushes away the jolt of embarrassment that she's still wearing only her robe and a towel wrapped around her hair. It doesn't matter, because she hasn't said anything to him and he probably doesn't feel the same way and never will. "I can come back," he says, and she shakes her head. "But you are still in your towel."

"It's fine, Vizh," she says, and her heart skips at that small, nervous smile that always brightens his face when she calls him by the usual nickname. Six months, and he still seems so pleasantly surprised that they're friends. Close friends. Close friends she wishes were closer. "I won't get another chance to see you until we get back from the mission. Steve wants to take off at five thirty."

"I'm sure Mr. Wilson was not impressed with that instruction," Vision observes, and she laughs softly, unwinding the towel from around her head and reaching for her hairbrush, pretending she isn't acutely aware of Vision's every movement around her room, his gaze idly flickering over the photographs on her pinboard, glad that she still keeps the snapshot of them at the Stark Industries Christmas gala tucked away in her music book.

"Steve promised he wouldn't be annoyed if we slept on the plane," she says, and Vision lets out a soft breath of something like a laugh. "And he's promised he'll schedule watches while we're away so everyone gets enough sleep."

"I'm going to miss you." The words are said in a rush, making her heartbeat jump unsteadily in her chest, and she glances back at Vision sat on the edge of her bed, avoiding her eyes and twisting his fingers nervously together in his lap. "Captain Rogers says you could be gone for up to a month."

"We could also only be gone for a few days," she says, though the hope rings false, both of them knowing that the lead on Rumlow is thus far too weak to promise she'll be gone for any less than a week. "And I'll call, Vizh. Whenever I can. And text."

"It's not the same." His voice is very quiet, and she sets her brush down and goes to him, sitting down next to him and trying to force down the blush that starts to rise in her cheeks when thoughts of what the two of them sitting together on the bed could lead to start to make themselves known. "Everything feels...different when you're not here."

"How?" she asks, uncomfortably aware of her heartbeat picking up speed, even though he's still avoiding her gaze.

"It's...it's just different," he repeats, and she moves closer, reaching a hand to still his fidgeting fingers, and swallowing nervously when he laces his fingers through hers. "I miss you more than I think a friend should miss another friend."

"Maybe we're not just friends." The words trip from her tongue before she can stop them, and she blushes instantly, trying to move away in embarrassment. But Vision holds her hand tighter, and finally turns his head to meet her eyes, and she fights not to let him hear the hitch in her breath when she watches his gaze drop to her lips.

"Perhaps we're not," he says, and the words send a shiver down her spine. His gaze returns to hers, her breathing turning shallow, and her eyes flutter closed when his hand gently cups her face. "May I kiss you, Wanda?"

She closes the gap between them in answer, bringing her mouth to his in a soft, sweet first kiss that has her heart pounding. Her hand finds purchase on his knee, and his fingers tighten slightly against her cheek, drawing her closer and intensifying their kiss. They break away simultaneously, and she keeps her eyes closed a moment longer, savouring the moment, letting herself hear his shallow breathing and feel his hand lingering on her face.

"Does it always feel like this?" he asks softly, and she opens her eyes to his smile, biting her lip and pressing closer against him, leaning up to press their foreheads together.

"I don't know," she says truthfully, and then curls one corner of her mouth up into a wicked smirk. "Maybe we should try again."

He surges forward eagerly, the hand not cupping her face going to her waist, and her delighted laugh is lost against his lips. The second kiss is as perfect as the first, and her happiness only grows as second becomes third and fourth and fifth, and she loses count to the way he goes from nervous and gentle to surer of himself, letting her slowly press him back into the bed.

"Should...should we stop?" he asks, and she marvels that she's made him struggle to speak coherently, made him lose his composure so thoroughly.

"Do you want to stop?" she breathes softly, pressing a kiss to his neck above his stiff collar.

"N-no," he stutters, and she leans back to smile down at him, linking their hands together.

"Neither do I." She guides his hand to the knot on her robe, gives the slightest reassuring smile as his fingers tug nervously, and leans down to kiss him as the two halves separate.

She's long since lost track of how many times he's kissed her lips, but she counts the first time he kisses her neck, her shoulder, maps out her body with his lips and, later, his tongue. Counts the first time his hands blaze trails across her skin, every slow caress drawing a new moan from her lips. The first time they press together skin to skin, meeting each other's eyes with nervous intakes of breath before he kisses her needily, clutching at her. Every moment counts, minutes she'll remember forever ticking by, every time he whispers her name like a prayer in time to the creaking of the bedsprings.

"I didn't know it could feel like this," Vision breathes when she finally rolls off him, slick with sweat and light-headed. She giggles, too giddy to hide her joy, and kisses him until their smiles keep their lips from connecting. "Is it always so...indescribable?"

"If even you don't have a word for it it must be good," she says, and he grins at her. "I don't know, Vizh, you know that was my first time too." She kisses his shoulder, curls closer to him and laces their fingers together as she adds, "But, with us, I think it will always be like this."

"Then this will happen again?" he asks, nerves creeping into his words, and she leans her head against his chest, tracing her fingers around the edge of a curved plate of vibranium.

"I'd like it to," she confesses shyly, and feels the waves of joy bursting from his mind, mixed in with a slight disbelief.

He leans up on an elbow to look at her, and she lets her gaze drop greedily to his chest for a brief moment before he speaks, wondering if they could get away with another round and she could simply sleep during the journey to Nigeria. "I would too," he says. "But the timing is...not ideal. And the logistics of keeping it together when everything could change any minute are intimidating."

"If this lead is good, then this will probably be the last mission we need to capture Rumlow," she says, every word hopeful. In Vision's arms, it seems like the hope isn't futile, like everything she says will come to fruition and they'll have peace and quiet with Rumlow gone. "So, when I get back, maybe we can...do this again?"

"I'd like that very much," he says, and she beams at him, pressing a lingering kiss to his mouth. "You should sleep now." She glances past him to her clock, blinking at her that it's one o'clock already, and a wry grin crosses his face as he says, "We rather lost track of time."

"You're very distracting," she says sweetly, and curls up to him as he pulls the blankets over their bodies, her head on his chest to hear his heartbeat still faster than normal. Her last conscious thought is of how  _normal_  it feels to wait for sleep while listening to the rhythm of his breathing and feeling his fingers run through her still-damp hair, and quietly wonder if this could be the rest of her life.

He's still there when she wakes up, arm around her exactly the same as it was when she fell asleep, and she smiles sleepily into his eyes. "Hi," she breathes, and the way he smiles so sweetly and genuinely stills her heart. "I thought you'd leave."

"No," he says softly. "I wanted to stay." He moves first, presses a soft kiss to her lips, melting away her anxiety about morning breath.

When she sees the time, she jerks away from him, throwing the blankets aside and climbing over him to get out of bed. "Why didn't you wake me up?!" she exclaims, throwing her toiletries into the top of her backpack and yanking at the zip until it closes, scrambling a comfortable outfit for travelling together from what's left in her closet.

"You still have twenty minutes before wheels up, and we both know Mr. Wilson will sleep for all but five of those," Vision says gently, morphing into a tight blue sweater that temporarily distracts her, wondering if those twenty minutes could be put to better use than waiting in the hangar while Steve grows increasingly irritated with Sam's lacking talents in timekeeping.

"I'd rather not have Steve already writing me up for lateness before we even get out of the compound," she says, and Vision chuckles softly. As she yanks a shirt over her head, she's aware of his eyes on her, the beginnings of lust echoing into her mind from his, and has to actively resist taking her clothes straight off again. "Could you go make me a coffee?"

"Of course," he says, but doesn't move away, instead fidgeting nervously for a moment before adding, "I won't say anything about what happened last night."

"Good call," she says, dragging a brush through her tangled hair, cursing herself for not remembering to tie it up before she fell asleep. "Just between us. Our special secret until this mission is over." She looks over to meet his eyes and give him a suggestive smile, and suppresses a giggle at his momentary stunned expression.

Yanking her backpack over her shoulders and sweeping a cursory glance around the room for anything she's obviously missed, she makes her way downstairs to the hangar to find Steve checking and rechecking that everything is in its place and Natasha in the pilot's chair, feet up on the co-pilot's chair and picking at a fruit salad. Vision is waiting for her, giving her a small smile and handing over her coffee with the formal, "Ms. Maximoff," that he uses around their teammates.

Sam arrives five minutes before the planned time to leave, as predicted, and responds to Steve's irritation with only a lazy grin, climbing into the quinjet and immediately lying down across one of the benches and pulling a sleeping mask down over his eyes. "Wheels up in two!" Steve calls out, and Wanda reluctantly sets her coffee mug down, psyching herself up to say goodbye to Vision, watching her with such softness to his eyes.

"I'll miss you," she says finally, and he gives her a small, sad smile, squeezing her wrist. They can't get any closer with Sam, Steve and Natasha all nearby, but she's never wanted to fall into someone's arms so badly.

"Call whenever you can," he says, the plea obvious in his eyes, and it's heartwarming to see that perhaps he is as desperate for her company as she is for his, to know exactly where they stand.

"I promise," she says, and starts to stand. "I'll see you soon."

"I'll be waiting," he promises, and she's too overwhelmed with emotion to not lean down and kiss his cheek in farewell. As she starts to move away, his arms wrap around her, and she holds on tightly for a long moment suspended in silence.

Lost in him, clinging to the last contact before she leaves him for a mission that could take a month or more, she fails to see Natasha smack Sam across the shoulder to wake him and interrupt his offended yelp by hissing, "Twenty bucks says something happened between those two last night."

Sam looks past her, at Wanda and Vision tightly wrapped up in each other's arms, and snorts. "No chance. I've seen plenty of platonic friends get emotional saying goodbye to each other. I'll win this one easy."

"Just like you won the bet about Maria and Rhodey secretly being together easy," she says, and doesn't even listen to Sam attempting to defend himself.

* * *

Vision waits anxiously for the familiar roar of the quinjet overhead, pacing back and forth across the length of the compound. Nothing can hold his attention, books tossed aside after a few pages, channels flipped through for minutes in search of the elusive programme to distract his thoughts for thirty minutes, even training against the highest difficulty simulation still lets his mind wander.

Three weeks without her, and yet what should be a joyful reunion with Rumlow finally gone will be tainted by her fatal mistake, the accident that claimed lives and has been all the news networks have talked about since.

On his sixteenth circle through the kitchen, Rhodes finally looks up from his crossword and says, "Okay, Vision, that's enough. They'll be back in the next hour, just sit down instead of wandering around aimlessly."

Fidgeting with the chess board, despite Rhodes' heavy sighs, Vision dares to dream of taking her into his arms the moment the quinjet lands, kissing her with all the emotion he's kept building in his chest over the past three weeks of separation, everything that's pent up every time he's managed to snatch ten minutes on the phone with her, the crackling connection and her distance voice not enough when he still remembers the way she sighed his name when he kissed her neck as clearly as if it happened three seconds ago, not three weeks. Perhaps he'll hear it again, find every place on her body where a kiss or caress makes her breath catch and lose count of the number of times their lips meet.

The hum of an engine spiralling to a stop has him jerking to his feet and out of the room before Rhodes has even set his pen down, phasing through the floor to reach the hangar perfectly in time with the hiss of the hydraulics in the quinjet doors. His first glimpse of her has his heart doing something strange within his chest, an irregularity in its rhythm, but the happiness is soon chased away by the realisation of her sadness, the way she stands with her arms locked around herself and her hands hidden in the depths of her oversized sweater.

Watching her silently grab her backpack and sling it over her shoulders, tamping down the urge to run to her aid, he waits for her to reach him before reaching out, heartbeat picking up speed when his fingers brush her arm. "Can we talk?" he asks softly, and she looks up at him with so much sadness behind her eyes that he feels weighed down by it.

"Later," she says shortly, jolting disappointment through him that he fights to hide. This isn't about him, or them, or the entirely pleasant surprise of what happened the night before she left. It's about letting her have the space to process her emotions, the same as he had to after Sokovia. "I just want to sleep."

She brushes past him, disappearing up the spiral staircase to the main floor of the compound, and Rogers calls out, "Vision, could you help out with this?" and he has to stop thinking about following her and waiting patiently at her side until she's ready to talk.

The atmosphere crackles with tension throughout the afternoon, despite Rhodes and Wilson returning to their usual joking around. A muscle ticks in Rogers' jaw and Romanoff disappears periodically to take phone calls, returning after each individual conversation in a bleaker mood. Wilson's call for pizza orders is responded to in quiet monotonous voices, and the silence of the wait for delivery is broken only by the bland storyline of an old sitcom in the background.

Rogers only picks at his slices, eyes on the only unclaimed box, then clears his throat and loudly says, "I better take this through to Wanda."

"Let me," Vision says, perhaps a tad too hastily, and walks quickly away, glad to leave the tension behind and at least see if Wanda is alright. If she's asleep, he can leave the food for her when she wakes up, maybe brush a kiss to her forehead.

When he knocks at her door, the, "Come in," is quiet and broken, and his heart sinks with sadness. Wanda is curled up into a tight ball beneath her blankets, the only light coming from the blinking numbers of her digital clock, eyes red and cheeks scarred silvery with tears, and her mouth quivers when she meets his gaze, her eyes shining bright with fresh tears.

He sets the pizza box down and crosses the room to her side, her hand finding his as soon as he's within her reach. "It was awful," she whispers, her breath catching on every word, tears spilling over her cheeks that his hand aches to reach out and brush away. "All those people screaming, people hurt, people  _dying_ , and it was my fault..." She trails off against the weight of her crying, and he holds her hand tighter and searches for an answer to how to help her, anything other than sitting and watching her come apart at the seams.

"You saved more lives than were lost," he says softly, and she sniffs and meets his eyes, her own swollen and rimmed with red in a way that reminds him of the first days living in this compound, when she moved like a shadow in the corridors and started when spoken to. "That bomb would've killed Captain Rogers and who knows how many more people if you hadn't acted. The circumstances were out of your control."

She sits up straighter, the hand not entwined with his wiping the tears away as fast as they fall, and says, "I know. It's all Steve has talked about since it happened. I just can't stop  _thinking_  about it. Sam tried to help, but I still saw people falling, the news showed their bodies, and I can't block that out. I just...I feel sick even thinking about it." She blinks hard, spilling a few more tears, and attempts a tremulous smile as she adds, "And on top of everything else, I've had a headache for hours and it won't go away."

"I can help with that," he says, and she looks up at him with suddenly wide eyes, and he's momentarily distracted by the motion of her throat as she swallows. "Rhodes restocked all the medicine cabinets while you were away, I'll see what we have to help headaches."

"Right," she says, a little too quickly, and he ponders momentarily why she looked at him in utter shock at the offer of help, even as he avoids the sound of tinny sitcom audience laughter drifting from the common area and finds a bottle of water and Tylenol for her.

She has at least started eating when he returns, picking at the mushrooms on her pizza, and the smile she gives him, however small, is genuine. "Thank you," she says sweetly, and he returns the smile as he watches her pop two tablets from the plastic packaging and wash them down with a gulp of water. "I don't know what's making it this bad. I haven't had headaches like this since before Strucker's experiments."

"You've been away from home for three weeks, sometimes that kind of change triggers headaches," he says, watching her set the pizza box aside and lie down again, an urge to climb in next to her and bring her lips to his rising at the back of his mind. "Sleep will get rid of it."

Her hand reaches out for him, then pauses suddenly. "May I?" she asks quietly, and he moves closer, taking her hand in a familiar gesture. Her presence in his mind is familiar, searching out the peace that will help her sleep, and her smile grows slightly in front of his eyes. "I missed you too. The first few days away, you were all I thought about."

He hastily pushes all of his thoughts from the past three weeks behind a shield, along with all of his thoughts going back for months dreaming about kissing her. But she still smiles, clasps his hand tighter in hers, and leans across the gap between them to press a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. She giggles softly and pulls away before he can sink into her, murmuring, "Your mind when I do that is the happiest thing I've ever seen."

"I'm happy with you," he says, the words escaping before he can hold them back, and she grins. "It's fine not to talk about us yet. I can wait."

"We will talk about us," she says around a yawn, lying down and turning onto her side to look at him, her smile growing slowly sleepier. "I don't want you to think that you're not...important to me. You are."

"These circumstances are beyond our control," he says, words tinged by slight sadness, watching her eyes beginning to slip closed. "Don't think about it anymore. Just sleep."

He stays at her side, their hands linked together, until she's thoroughly asleep, breathing deeply and shifting slightly beneath the blankets. Standing and carefully disentangling their fingers, wincing each time she twitches in case she wakes up, he smiles helplessly down at her and bends to press a kiss to her forehead before leaving the room, closing the door with a soft snap behind him.

* * *

Vision's concern grows for her as the days since Lagos mount up and her illness seems to grow worse. In all the time he's known her she's slept fitfully, waking every few hours and never having any trouble rising with the dawn for training drills, but now it takes peering around her door at least three times to ensure she arrives to the gym in time, always pale and puffy-eyed and still yawning through the outline of the plan each morning. She falls asleep leaning against him on the couch on more than one occasion, necessitating him carrying her back to bed and, more often than not, removing her shoes and socks and leaving them neatly lined up by her door. Her eyes fill with sudden tears at the slightest allusion to the accident in Lagos on any TV channel or radio station, and she's grown increasingly irritable, snapping at Wilson and Rhodes for continuing their usual coping mechanisms of making light of their situation.

They continue to dance around each other in front of their teammates, hiding the evolution of their relationship with the new change in circumstances and the world calling for new measures to regulate their activities. She gives him secret smiles whenever their eyes catch, a suggestion of something that makes his heart skip in her eyes, but he won't give in. Not until the situation is resolved and her illness lifts, keeping him from finding her curled up alone and massaging her temples to relieve her persistent headaches.

"I used to get them like this while Pietro and I were living on the streets, he'd do what he could to try and get medicine to help," she says while they're playing chess to fill the minutes until Stark arrives on a public relations visit. "But they stopped completely after Strucker's experiments."

"You're stressed and scared, it's only natural that you feel a little under the weather," he says, affectionately watching her frowning down at the board before moving her pawn, grinning at the affronted noise she lets out when he immediately removes it from the game. "It's not getting any worse, is it?"

"It's just inconvenient," she says, and he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, relief rushing through him. "But nice, in a way. I slept twelve hours straight last night, I don't think before this I'd slept longer than five at once since my parents died."

"I think if the headaches continue much longer you should see a doctor," he says, and she rolls her eyes at him slightly.

"It's sweet that you're so concerned, but I'm just not worried," she says. "It's my body, I'd know if anything was seriously wrong. I promise, if it's still bothering me in another two weeks, I'll talk to someone."

"Thank you," he says, and she shakes her head gently at him, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth belying her disapproval. Setting his chess piece down, he tries to keep his lips from curving into a smug grin and says, "And I believe that's checkmate."

She looks down at the chessboard with anger growing on her face, then looks back up at him with fire in her eyes. "One day," she says, voice low. "One day, I am going to win a game of chess, and you are going to regret ever being so smug."

He simply grins at her, setting each chess piece back to its starting point, and says, "I'm afraid you'd have to direct my attentions thoroughly elsewhere for that to happen, Wanda."

"Is that so?" she asks, arching an eyebrow at him with a wicked gleam in her eye. "So I could win by playing dirty, is that what you're saying?" She shifts forward on the couch, planting her hands on the centre of the chessboard as she leans closer to him, a smirk curling one corner of her mouth, and whispers, "Checkmate," before she kisses him, a brief press of their lips before she sits back and smiles sweetly.

He gazes at her for a moment, and almost moves the chessboard aside to pull her into another, lingering kiss before the door slides open and Rhodes looks in at them, brow creased in a severe frown. "Tony's here," he says. "And he's brought Secretary Ross to talk to us about new measures the UN wants to implement. Conference room, five minutes."

"This isn't going to be fun," Wanda remarks as the door swings shut behind Rhodes, and Vision reluctantly sets aside thoughts of secret kisses and soft whispering to stand, mind swarming with worst-case scenarios of why the Secretary of State could have personally come to speak with them.

All of that is immediately chased away by instantaneous cold fear when Wanda stands up and abruptly sways backwards, eyelids fluttering, and he darts forward to catch her as she thuds backwards onto the couch, blinking up at him. "I'm fine," she says before he even has a chance to piece the words together, tongue-tied by terror. "I just got dizzy for a second."

"Wanda-"

"I know, I should talk to someone," she says. "But I feel  _fine_. You worry too much. People are pretty resilient, and if I can survive all the experiments with the mind stone I can survive a few dizzy spells here and there."

"Okay," he concedes, and she smiles triumphantly. "But  _please_  take it slowly. Perhaps you should let Captain Rogers know that you're feeling ill, you shouldn't be pushed too hard in training if you're feeling faint."

"I'll decide how hard I can be pushed," she snaps, and he recoils in the face of her irritation, anger that hasn't been directed at him since the very early days of their friendship. But after a short moment of tense silence, she smiles at him, briefly sliding her fingers between his. "You don't have to worry so much, Vizh. I will let you know if I start to feel bad enough to need a doctor. Now c'mon, let's go to this stupid meeting."

He watches her closely walking to the conference room, already occupied by the rest of the team, Stark sitting hunched over in the corner and Secretary Ross tapping at the computer to prepare a presentation, on edge for her steps faltering and her body curving unconscious to the ground. But she appears to be alright, despite how pale she is against her dark clothes, and drops into her seat as Ross turns around to begin his presentation.

Ross' voice blurs into background noise as Vision watches Wanda, acutely aware of her every movement, watching for any change in her breathing or her face growing any paler or any other symptoms showing themselves. The other occupants of the room are entirely absorbed in Ross' words, their faces darkening into solemn masks, allowing him to shift his chair closer to hers and reach for her hand beneath the table, reassured when she slides her fingers between his and squeezes. He wonders if he dares to lean out of his chair and press a kiss to her cheek or the back of her shoulder, but the thud of Ross setting a thick booklet on the table startles him out of daydreaming and has him jerking back in the chair, snatching his hand from Wanda's before they're caught.

"The Sokovia Accords are, I believe, the perfect solution to the issues of accountability and containment," Ross says, and Vision pushes away a sharp spike of anger when he sees Wanda twitch at the name, her hands clenching beneath the table. "You will become a UN-sanctioned team, fulfilling your responsibilities only as and when directed by a panel in charge of your use. We simply cannot allow you to continue operating whenever and wherever you want to, not when innocent people are dying. Should you choose to sign these documents, you will be making a statement that any work you do without explicit orders from the UN will be illegal, and- Are you alright, Ms. Maximoff?"

Concern sends a cold shiver skittering up Vision's spine as every eye in the room snaps to Wanda, fear gripping him when he sees the grey-green tinge creeping through her skin and a slight sheen of sweat on her brow. "I'm fine," she insists tersely, straightening up in her chair. "Just a little nauseous." Sparing a moment to glance back at Vision with a small attempt at a smile, she takes a hasty gulp of water and spins back to face Ross.

Almost instantaneously, she turns greener and her eyes widen in a panic, and she bolts out of the room with a hand at her mouth. They all watch the door swing shut before Rogers clears his throat and says, "Apologies, Secretary, she's been under the weather since we returned home from Lagos. Vision, sit down."

Unaware that he even stood, Vision sits down a little shamefaced, but continues to fidget as the conversation around the table washes over him unheard, staring at the door still trembling slightly on its hinges, worry clouding his mind. Her unusual sleeping habits, the mood swings, persistent headaches, her almost fainting and now nausea. He just wishes desperately that there was something he could do to help other than offer more medication when possible and make sure she's drinking enough water and eating, anything other than sitting back and watching her suffer.

With no idea of what the discussion held, the moment Ross dismisses them with a parting, "The UN meets to ratify the Accords in three days. I suggest you all think long and hard about whether you want to sign and stay on the right side of history or simply retire," Vision is out of his chair before anyone can say another word. He finds Wanda curled up on one of the couches in the common area, head bent against the armrest and one hand rubbing small circles over her stomach.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly, sitting down close to her and brushing a kiss to her shoulder, reaching for her hand. She turns to him with eyes slightly redder than when she ran out of the meeting, still so pale there's a slight grey tinge to her skin, and leans into him, her head on his shoulder. "Do you feel any better?"

"That tends to happen when you feel nauseous and then throw up," she says weakly, and a twinge of sympathy overtakes his mind, and he squeezes her hand. "I think this might be the flu. Fatigue, headaches, random aches and pains, dizziness and now nausea. I must've picked it up in Lagos."

Pressing the back of his hand against her sweat-slick forehead, he softly says, "You don't have a fever," brushing his fingers against her cheek to make sure and feeling a warm swell of affection in his chest when she leans into his touch.

"Maybe I've escaped that particular side effect," she says. "Or maybe that's what comes next." She links their fingers tighter together, shifting closer to him, and he notices the darkness of the shadows beneath her eyes despite her increased hours of sleep. It must be fatigue that makes her curl so close to him, regardless of what anyone else might think to see them. "Where are the rest?"

"Still in the conference room, I presume," he says, sliding an arm around her to rub gentle circles between her shoulder blades, her soft sigh at the pressure music to his ears. "I think they're arguing about the merits and drawbacks of the Accords. I must admit, I only heard maybe three sentences of that presentation."

"Me too," she says, with a small wry smile. "The nausea came on so suddenly, I was concentrating on not throwing up." With a long sigh, she lets her head fall onto his shoulder, nestling into him with a slight smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "So who is considering signing the Accords?"

"I have no idea," he says, and she lets out a soft breath of a laugh, turning her head into the crook of his neck. "As soon as it became clear Secretary Ross' presentation was over, I left. Captain Rogers wouldn't let me follow you out immediately."

"He'll write you up for disciplinary action for leaving without explicit permission," she remarks quietly, and he raises her hand to his lips to press a kiss to the soft skin of her palm, turning back to find her gazing up at him with the slightest shimmer of tears in her eyes.

"You're worth a few extra minutes of training tomorrow," he promises, and she smiles, affectionately squeezing at his thigh and remaining pressed against him, even when the door swings open and the rest of the team join them, taking seats and continuing an obviously heated conversation.

The fierce debate rages on in the common area, but the voices of everyone else in the room wash over Vision in a mere wave of muted white noise, absorbed as he is in continuing to massage Wanda's back in small, sweeping circles and keep her hand in his. When she leans closer into him, pressing her face into his shoulder, he finds that his hand creeps from her back to her hair, running his fingers through the loose strands in a gesture that soothes him as much as he hopes it soothes her. The urge to kiss her is still overwhelmingly strong, perhaps stronger than it was before the magical night they shared, but logic dictates that it would be a ridiculous idea to kiss her in front of their teammates with their agreement to hide the evolution of their relationship. Feeling her breath warm against his neck, he hopes desperately that the situation will be resolved relatively quickly, and they can announce to the team that they've become more than friends, and he'll be able to steal a kiss from her lips whenever the urge strikes.

"Vision." Stark's voice startles him from his absorption in stroking Wanda's hair, and she lifts her head from his shoulder and shifts slightly apart from him, though she makes no attempt to pull her hand away from his. The rest of the team are staring at them, their faces solemn and anger brewing behind each pair of eyes. "What do you think? Will you sign the Accords?"

"I would," Vision says, and doesn't miss the smug look that Stark shoots in Rogers' direction. "Ever since you announced yourself as Iron Man eight years ago, Mr. Stark, threats against the world have grown more frequent and far more dangerous. Our very strength invites challenge. If we sign the Accords, we remove ourselves from the equation and-"

"Vizh." Wanda's fingers tightening convulsively on his stalls his words immediately, and he looks to her to be gripped by fear again, seeing her eyes glazed over and her face suddenly ashen and shining with sweat. "I don't...I don't feel good."

She sways alarmingly, her eyes roll back in her head and she slumps unconscious against him, hand slack in his, and panic ties his tongue. He simply repeats her name over and over again, shaking her slightly, not even noticing the rest of the team shifting and exchanging glances. Thankfully, she's only unconscious for thirty-seven seconds, her eyelids fluttering open as she looks around in a daze, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater and fear in her expression. "What happened?" she asks, voice weak and tremulous, and he slides his arm around her, utterly ignorant of the reactions of anyone else in the room.

"You fainted," he says softly. "You should lie down." Shifting aside a little to give her space to breathe, he asks, "Can you stand?"

Leaning on his shoulder, she gets hesitantly to her feet and almost immediately slumps backwards against him with a sharp gasp. "I think standing is a bad idea," she mumbles, and he puts an arm around her back and one under her knees, lifting her into his arms as she quite naturally wraps an arm around his neck, pressing her face into his chest.

It isn't until the door swings shut behind them that the slightest thought intrudes of what their teammates might think, but Wanda clinging to him distracts him completely from wondering what impression they are giving anyone. Opening the door to her room, he sets her gently down on her bed and opens the top two buttons on her shirt to give her more room to breathe without constriction, using one of the decorative pillows to elevate her feet slightly. "Stay there, I'll get you a glass of water," he says, and she whimpers softly and clings to him.

"Don't go," she whispers, desperation in the quiver of her voice, and his heart cracks just a little, hearing her so vulnerable.

"I promise, Wanda, I'll be right back," he says. "Just stay there." After a moment, she uncurls her fingers from his sleeve, and lies down, but not before he sees a tear spill from her eye and roll down the side of her face.

Moving as quickly as he can with a full glass of water in hand, he startles when the door to the common area swings open and Stark looks out, leaning on the doorframe and giving Vision a severe look. "Is she alright?" he asks, and Vision is surprised to hear the concern in his voice, knowing as he does that Wanda and Stark are yet to begin getting along. "First feeling sick in the meeting, now fainting. Is something seriously wrong?"

"She suspects she simply picked up the flu in Lagos," Vision says, but the answer doesn't seem to make Stark relax, something sparking in his eyes. "If you don't mind, Mr. Stark, I want to stay with her rather than return to the meeting."

"About that, Vision," Tony says, and lets the door swing closed, moving closer and lowering his voice. "Secretary Ross suggested that Wanda should be contained while the Accords are being ratified and we are all signing them, because the UN wants to avoid anything like Lagos happening again. Obviously, with her ill none of us want to see her imprisoned, so I offered a suggestion that she could perhaps stay here. Would you be willing to stay too and keep an eye on her? Stop her from leaving, get her medical attention if whatever's wrong with her gets any worse, that sort of thing?"

He doesn't pause to consider the implications before replying, "Absolutely," with utter conviction, simply wishing the conversation to be over so he can return to Wanda. Stark gives him a tight smile and vanishes back into the common area, the door opening to a brief echoing of Rhodes and Wilson arguing from inside, and Vision walks briskly away.

Wanda is lying still on her bed, so quiet that he thinks for a moment that she's asleep, but shifts as he approaches her. When he turns the dimmer switch next to her bed to bring a little light to the room, his breath catches when he sees the tear tracks on her cheeks, and he reaches for more pillows to stack against the headboard so she can sit up, pressing the glass into her hand. "Sip this for me," he insists softly.

"Will you hold me?" she asks, her voice so quiet and tremulous with emotion that he sits down next to her as she moves slightly to give him room, resting her head against his chest as he puts his arm tightly around her and presses a kiss to her temple. Contentment rules the moment as he watches her sip slowly at her water, sees a slight hint of colour return to her cheeks and allows himself to relax into the feeling that they're almost acting like a couple, cuddling in bed together. If only it wasn't her feeling so ill that led to her feeling safe to curl close to him.

"Are you alright?" he asks when she's finished the glass, taking it from her to set it on her nightstand and cupping her face between his hands, searching for any signs of her skin turning too pale or her eyes glazing over again. "Any lightheadedness? Any nausea?"

"'M tired," she mumbles, and gestures vaguely in the direction of her closet. "Can you get me something to sleep in? Just a long T-shirt is fine, I don't want to stand up in case I faint again."

He presses another soft kiss to her temple, watching the curve of her cheek as she smiles at the gesture, and moves away from her, crossing the room to flip through her closet and find a plain grey T-shirt, worn and well-loved. When he turns around, he feels his jaw drop to see her undressing, despite the fact that he's seen her entirely naked, held her and caressed her and kissed her, every inch of her body he could explore imprinted on his memory. She smiles sweetly up at him and lifts her arms, and he pushes his less innocent thoughts away to dress her, unclasping her necklace for her and setting it neatly on her nightstand, stretching out the chain to prevent tangling. "You're such a good guy, Vizh," she says softly, pulling her shirt down over her hips, and he smiles, returning to his position next to her.

"I just want to help you," he says softly, gently tracing the tip of a finger down her arm and watching in fascination as goosebumps rise on her skin in the wake of his touch. "I hate seeing you so ill and not being able to do more to help."

"It's not your fault, Vizh," she says, her voice already growing slower and sleepier as she curls up to him, throwing an arm across his chest. "These things just happen. You're trying, and that means a lot." She looks up at him with a slight smirk at the corners of her mouth, and asks, "You know what would really help me?"

Playing along, he innocently asks, "What?" and thrills when she tilts her head up to kiss him, tightening her arm around him to bring herself closer, just enough to hook her leg around his in a way that makes his breathing stutter.

"You're a good kisser, you know," she breathes when she breaks away, and he smiles a little shyly at her. "If I didn't feel like crap, I'd take more advantage of that."

"Maybe you'll feel better after resting," Vision says, and she giggles. Only once he's spoken does he realise the implication of his words, and hastily look away from her. "I didn't mean...I'm not implying that I only want you to feel better because of... _that_."

"You've made me scream your name and you still can't say the word 'sex'," she observes with a wry smile, and he tries to hide the way heat takes over his entire body at the memory, one that seems to return to his mind at the most inopportune moments. "I seem to remember you saying much dirtier things than that."

The gleam in her eyes suggests she'll start to recount the details of their hours spent pressed skin to skin, and he runs a soothing hand through her hair and pushes his own thoughts away. "Go to sleep, Wanda," he says, and she laughs softly.

"I'm looking forward to a repeat performance when this flu lifts," she murmurs, and curls up against him, asleep in minutes.

* * *

"And now to our panel of experts, who today will be discussing the Sokovia Accords and the decisions of certain members of the Avengers not to sign the document, meaning that they are now effectively retired superheroes," the white-toothed chat show hosts says, causing his audience to titter with laughter. "Can't you just imagine Captain America playing golf all day?"

Turning the TV off with her mouth twisting in disgust, Wanda sighs and stands up, stretching to relieve the ache in her lower back that cushions don't seem to be helping much with. She was so happy to find sudden relief from the persistent headaches, but the pain seems to have simply rerouted itself to her back, making it impossible to ever get comfortable. At least with the compound empty but for her and Vision, no one is around to ask too many questions or make suggestive comments. Just Vision, offering her heat packs and back rubs, always with that small, slightly nervous smile that sends her heart aflutter.

Hearing jazz playing from the kitchen, music that can always be traced back to Vision and has been since Tony bought a record player for the compound, she smiles helplessly to herself and slides the door open to be overwhelmed by a familiar scent, taking her straight back to her childhood and her mother softly singing Sokovian folk songs as she cooked. Tears prickle hotly at her eyes for a moment, and she tries to hide them by giving Vision a flirtatious smile when he looks up from his cookbook and meets her eyes.

"Is that paprikash?" she asks sweetly, crossing the room to him with an extra sway in her hips. How can she help it if the way his sweater - the same one she got him for Christmas, in fact - pulls taut across his shoulders is sending her mind in a dozen different decidedly inappropriate directions?

"I thought it might lift your spirits," he says, and she beams up at him, filing away this further piece of evidence of their friendship, of the way he pays attention to what she wants and needs in such a real way, his attentiveness to her ever since she really started to feel ill. Every morning there's been a glass of water and a few crackers waiting on her nightstand, and he's been waiting with weak tea and the smile that's only ever for her after training, her personal regime much lighter ever since the entire team saw her faint. Curled up with him on the couch, she can fall asleep against his shoulder and always wake up in her own bed, safe. If sleeping together has confirmed anything, it's the strength of their friendship, before she even tries to begin untangling her convoluted romantic and sexual feelings for him.

"Since when do you ever try cooking?" she asks, moving closer to him and toying with the sleeve of his sweater, suppressing a smirk at the way he glances down at her fingers in astonishment for a moment, his mind straying from concentrating on the recipe. "Aren't you supposed to be banned from the kitchen?"

"An accident that happened almost a year ago shouldn't still be working against me," he says, and she giggles at how young he sounds, like a child told they're not allowed to play outside. Giving the pot a stir, he glances at her and continues, "And I thought home cooking was a better idea than ordering takeaway. Greasy food isn't going to help your nausea."

"It's been okay today," she says, wrapping her hand around his arm and leaning against him, smiling when he brushes a kiss to the top of her head. "My back is bothering me more than anything else."

"I'll run you a bath after you've eaten," he says, and she smiles up at him. "This shouldn't take much longer."

"So we have time to fill before dinner?" she asks, running her fingers along his arm, her heartbeat picking up speed as he turns his head to look down at her, and she sees the way his breath catches when she moves a half-step closer. He nods hesitantly, and she smiles and breathes, "Perfect," as she bounces up onto her tiptoes to press her mouth to his.

His arms wind around her, pulling her against him, and his lips part against hers, intensifying their kiss for the first time since their first night together. Her breath leaves her in a rush, her arms winding tightly around his neck, and his fingers tracing the curve of her spine pulls a sharp gasp from her lips, her hands pulling at his collar to bring their faces closer together, heat flooding through her body and desperation slipping into her thoughts, the want for him that has been kept suppressed by circumstances flooding to the surface.

The sharp trill of the oven timer has him pulling hastily away from her, leaving her gasping for breath and hollowly disappointed that he stopped. He gives the pot a quick stir, turns the flame off, and looks at her with eyes darkened by lust, his gaze flickering over her in a way that make her heart beat impossibly faster. "The...the food is ready," he says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the table, and she takes his hand and pulls him close again.

"I don't want to stop," she says, and sees the relief flash through his eyes, and she shucks her cardigan off, tossing it aside and pulling at his sweater until he takes the hint and helps her pull it over his head, though unlike her he pauses to fold it neatly and set it on the counter.

Taking the brief moment to just look at him, greedily drinking in the details of the body she remembers pressing against hard enough to leave bruises, she smiles when he turns back to her. "Are you sure?" he asks softly, uncertain, and she nods fiercely. He surges forward to kiss her, pressing her back against the counter, the way his hand curls over the small of her back making her feel so safe in his arms.

Alas, it only takes a minute or two for the way the edge of the counter pushes into her back to become too much of a discomfort to ignore, and she has to pull out of the kiss. "Vizh," she says, more of a sigh as he starts to kiss his way down her neck, one hand toying with the hem of her shirt, and presses a hand against his shoulder. "Wait." He jerks back immediately, panic emerging in his expression, and she smiles reassuringly and unwinds her arms from around him to hop up onto the counter, bringing her lips almost level with his.

He returns his lips to her neck, and she instinctively tilts her head to give him more room, one hand resting on the back of his head and the other clutching the edge of the counter, white-knuckled as his hand slides up beneath her shirt, goosebumps rising on her skin in the wake of his touch. "This is all I thought about in Lagos," she breathes, and he lifts his head to gaze into her eyes, the hand not drawing patterns into the skin of her stomach lifting to tuck her hair behind her ear, such a tender gesture that her breath catches. "You and me. Like this. What I've wanted for  _months_."

His smile is so soft that affection floods through her, so much more than the sheen of lust, and he leans in to tilt their foreheads together, cupping her cheek and tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. "Me too," he says softly, and kisses her in a way so intense that she wraps her legs around his waist to bring their bodies closer together, running her hands down his chest and marvelling as her fingertips move from warm skin to the contrasting coolness of vibranium, the knowledge that no one else in the world feels the way he does, that no one else could ever make her tremble with a look. Her name falls in a rush of breath from his lips, sending a jolt of arousal through her, and she moans softly in response, heart pounding as his hand runs over her waist and up her back, his fingers fumbling at the clasp of her bra.

Nausea hits her in an awful, terrible, inconvenient rush, and she jerks backwards, clasping a hand to her mouth. Vision backs away immediately, face painted with utter concern for her, and she slides down from the counter and bolts out of the room, just making it to the bathroom in time. Her face is still flush with heat, but her throat burns and her eyes prick hot with tears, her weak knees for a far worse reason now, and she finds herself on her knees on the tiled floor, resting her forehead against the edge of the bath and wallowing in the misery of being ill.

She hears Vision's familiar footsteps and feels his presence without needing to turn around, the calm oasis of his mind. He drapes her cardigan over her shaking shoulders and begins rubbing soothing circles into her back, and she falls back against him, sniffing hard to try and stop the tears in her eyes from falling. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, and he presses a kiss to her temple and brushes her hair back from her sweat-slick forehead.

"There's no need for apologies, Wanda," he says softly, and despite the fact that his tongue was in her mouth and his hands beneath her clothes just minutes ago this moment feels more intimate, him cradling her on the bathroom floor. "You can't help any of this."

"I wanted to keep going," she says weakly, a single tear falling when she blinks, one that his thumb immediately rises to wipe away. "I really did. You have no idea how much I wanted to...how sexy you are."

"There will be other times," he says, and she tilts her head to look at him, with that soft shy smile on his face as he wraps his arms around her a little tighter. "For now, I'm going to put your dinner in the fridge for later and run you a bath. Then perhaps we can watch a movie until you fall asleep?"

"Sounds perfect," she says, and his smile grows. "But I'm gonna go to the store first. See what they have for nausea." He freezes, and suspicion surges up in her gut, and she straightens up in his embrace, cupping a hand to his face. "Vision? What's wrong?"

"You can't leave the compound," he says, and the revelation jolts unpleasantly through her, her hand falling away from his face. "We have to stay here. Mr. Stark asked me to stay behind, to keep an eye on you, because Secretary Ross wanted you isolated to avoid further incident while waiting for these issues with the Accords to be resolved, but with you so ill none of us wanted to see you placed in any prison facility. I offered to watch over you and ensure your safety and call for medical attention if you felt any worse, I didn't consider the implications, I'm so sorry, Wanda, please forgive me, I just wanted to protect you."

His rambling washes over her, the sincerity in his eyes and the sadness of his expression, and she doesn't pull away from him, the knowledge that he's isolated himself too to protect and take care of her strangely warm in her heart. "Do we have any ginger?" she asks, and looks up to his astonished expression.

"I...I believe there is a little in the spice cabinet," he says, and she stands up, flicking a speck of lint from her skirt and pulling her cardigan tighter around her.

"I'll try that for the nausea, for now," she says, and still he gazes at her with so much sadness in his eyes, an open book for her to read without even thinking of using her telepathy. "Now, I think I heard you offer to run me a bath."

"Wanda-"

"I don't want to talk about it," she says shortly. "Circumstances have forced us all to do things that we wouldn't necessarily want to. I don't want to spend all this time ill and miserable and watching the team falling out over a piece of paper. I just want to spend time with my best friend."

Vision stands, uncertain, and she manages to give him a small smile and squeeze his hand. "You pick the movie tonight," she says. "Just please not another documentary. I can't be blamed for falling asleep during those."

"I happen to find the Renaissance fascinating," he says, a slight quirk of amusement to the corners of his mouth, and she smiles genuinely.

"Well, I happen to enjoy watching something that won't end up with you refusing to respond to my flirting because you're concentrating," she teases, and his gaze drops away from hers bashfully. "Now, run me that bath you promised. Light a few candles. And consider giving me a massage later." He grins at her, and presses a soft kiss to her forehead that makes her blush again.

* * *

Wanda arches beneath his hands with a long sigh, and he presses a soft kiss to the back of her neck, reaching for a towel to wipe the oils from her back and his hands. "I hope this is helping," he says softly. "The Internet is perhaps not the way to learn how to give massages."

"Clearly the only thing the Internet can't teach you is how to work the toaster," she says, affection warm in her voice, and reaches for her abandoned shirt, pulling it over her head and sliding her arms into her cardigan, turning back around to face him with a sweet smile. "It is helping. Better than the heat packs." A smirk curls the corner of her mouth, and she leans closer and adds, "Of course, having your hands on me when I'm half-naked doesn't hurt either."

He leans forward to kiss her, smoothing her shirt beneath his hands, and she breaks away with a soft contented smile on her face and a slight flush in her cheeks. "How is the ginger working for the nausea?" he asks, his arm sliding naturally around her when she leans against him, tucking her head against his shoulder.

"I mean, it's lasted me a week and suppressed it to a certain extent," she says, her eyes falling closed for a moment as he starts to run his fingers through her hair, a familiar gesture that's become instinctive now. "Thank you for looking up remedies, by the way. Eating something small before I get out of bed in the morning has been helping."

"I wish I could do more," he says, slight sadness creeping into his words, and she lifts her head to look up at him, cupping a hand to his face.

"You're already going above and beyond," she says, smiling at him. "You've been so wonderful ever since I came back from Lagos, even before I started to feel really terrible. I never thought before that someone would learn massage just to help me with backache." A wicked gleam crosses her eyes, and she links her fingers through his and asks, "So do you think your back massage skills could translate to  _other_  areas?"

He shakes his head at her fondly, saying, "You have been so flirtatious these last few days, Wanda. I thought we had agreed not to give in to our urges again."

"We never had that agreement, it was forced on us because I got ill," she says, leaning in closer. "And I can't help it. Not when you're walking around looking all handsome and being so sweet to me." Cupping his face with one hand, she leans their foreheads together and murmurs, "You can't tell me you don't want to give in too."

"Of course I do," he breathes, his hands reaching out to curl around her waist, and she beams at him and shuffles forward on her knees, sliding into his lap.

"Then what are we waiting for?" She leans in and kisses him, pressing against him, and he responds with the same eagerness that surges up in him whenever she's close, a need for her awakening at the back of his mind, wrapping his arms around her to pull them closer together. When she presses against him, due to her decision to avoid wearing a bra to try and help with her backache he can feel her nipples beginning to harden through the thin fabric of her shirt, a fact that sends a spike of arousal through him.

"I love kissing you." The words leave his lips before he can suppress them, soft and shy, and she pulls back and beams at him, her eyes bright.

"Likewise," she breathes, skimming her hands down his chest until she reaches the hem of his shirt, biting her lip suggestively as she curls her fingers into the material. "May I?" He phases out of the shirt, and she smiles as she throws it onto the couch behind them and leans in for another kiss, tracing the edge of a band of vibranium with the tip of one finger, making him shiver. "Does that feel good?" she whispers, and he nods, rendered speechless by the combination of her seductive tone and her touch.

She kisses the corner of his mouth, then his neck, trailing soft presses of her lips across his skin to the small plate of vibranium usually hidden by his collar, and presses an open-mouthed kiss to it, the tip of her tongue tracing the edges of the shape, and the rush of arousal is so strong that his grip tightens on her hard enough to leave distinctly finger-shaped red marks on her skin, and her name falls roughly from his lips. At that, she sits back on his thighs and smirks. "I don't know how I've missed that before now," she says softly, "but I'll be remembering it from now on."

He pulls her in for another, desperate kiss, his hands in her hair to press their faces closer together, and she responds in kind, nipping at his lip and pressing herself against him. But a muted explosion beyond the windows sends her reeling backwards in his lap, her eyes darting in panic, and he turns his head to see a fire springing up in a tree at the edge of the estate, smoke billowing upwards into the night sky. "What is that?" she asks quietly, her voice thick with terror, and he slides her off him onto the couch, phasing back into his shirt and stretching across to press a reassuring kiss to her temple.

"Stay here," he says, and squeezes her hand before moving away, phasing through the window and flying to the edge of the estate. The flames have already snuffed themselves out, the smoke spiralling towards the stars, and he grits his teeth in quiet anger when he finds the point of an explosive arrow embedded in the thickest tree branch.

Hastily returning to the compound, he calls out, "Clint!" and watches Barton lower his bow with a terrible attempt at a placating expression. Wanda is still sitting on the edge of the couch, her cardigan wrapped tightly around her and her hands tucked into the sleeves in a gesture that he knows means she's scared, and he aches to comfort her. "You should not be here," he says to Barton, taking a few steps closer to him, trying to give Wanda a subtle comforting smile without breaking his iciness with Barton.

"Really?" Barton asks, quirking an eyebrow, tone dripping with sarcasm that sets Vision on edge, his irrational dislike for Barton rising to the surface. "I retire for what, five minutes, and it all goes to shit."

"You don't understand the gravity of the situation," Vision says. "Please consider the consequences of your actions."

"Alright, they're considered," Barton says lightly. "Turns out, you're helping Stark keep Wanda prisoner here because Ross thinks she's some kind of monster. Steve very kindly explained all this to me when he called very late last night and I immediately started driving to come pick her up. Think of this as a jailbreak."

"That's not...it's not what's happening here," Vision protests, but the words catch like shards of glass in his throat. Because, truly, that is what's happening. He's helping Stark, helping Ross keep someone prisoner simply because he fears their power, helping the UN essentially imprison his best friend. How can he ask Barton to consider the consequences of his actions, when he never considered the consequences of his? He thought selfishly, wanting to spend time with Wanda and take care of her, but he's limited her freedom and allowed her to believe what others do of her, that she's some kind of monster who should be locked away from the outside world. He should be turning his back on those who doubt her, should have the courage to stand up for her, should be showing the world his Wanda, the kind and sweet and gentle woman she truly is.

"Clint, no!" Wanda's cry brings him out of his reverie, and he blinks and sees that Wanda has jumped up from the couch, her hand raised and her powers encasing an arrow Barton clearly just fired, flickering blue with electricity and aimed squarely for Vision's shoulder. He watches her twist her fingers and turn the arrow to dust, and flash him a momentary smile that warms his heart before she turns to Barton with fire in her eyes.

"Jesus Christ, kid, what the hell are you doing defending him?!" he exclaims, and Wanda arches an eyebrow at him in disbelief. "He's basically your prison warden, making sure you can't leave this building! Steve sounded furious on the phone, he was so angry that Tony would do this to you!"

"Well, clearly it didn't occur to you  _or_  Steve that maybe I didn't feel like a prisoner!" Wanda snaps at him. "Maybe I want to stay here, out of the way of all this stupid petty fighting, with Vision! Maybe I don't need you to come blazing in here starting fires and trying to electrocute people thinking you're rescuing me!"

"You should go with him." Wanda turns back to face Vision with surprise flooding her face, and he avoids her eyes in shame. "Just get out of here."

"Clint," Wanda says, voice tight and tense, "I want to be alone with Vision. Go wait outside."

"Kid-"

" _Now_!" The shrillness of her voice makes Barton's eye widen in fear, and he gives Vision a black look before he turns on his heel and leaves the room, letting the door slam shut demonstratively loudly behind him.

Wanda crosses the room in quick footsteps to cup Vision's face between her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes, to see the sheen of tears already shining there, and a swell of emotion rises in his chest, barely suppressed. "What are you doing, Vizh?" she asks softly, her voice thick with emotion.

"He's right," he murmurs, looping her hair behind her ear and looking down at her with a lump slowly growing hard in his throat, the complexity of what he's feeling choking him. "I've been helping Mr. Stark and Secretary Ross imprison you, just because the rest of the world looks at you and sees something you're not. I should never have agreed to it, I should've stood up for you and who I know you to be, I should've made them see you as I do."

"I don't care about that, Vizh, I don't  _care_ ," she says, and a single tear falls when she blinks, leaving a silvery trail shining across her skin. "I'd rather be here with you than isolated in some German spy building with Steve and Sam, I want to be with my best friend, you know I do."

"You should be with the people who want to see you free," he says, raising a hand to brush a tear away with his thumb, tracing the line of her cheekbone and trying to memorise the warmth and softness of her skin. "Go. I'll tell them you overpowered me and escaped, that I have no idea where you went, I'll protect you."

She raises her head and kisses him fiercely, her hand pressed against the back of his neck, and he draws her close and tries to pour all of the feelings he doesn't know how to articulate into the connection between their lips, acutely terrified that this kiss will be their last, a memory tinged with melancholy. He can feel the wetness of her tears slick against his skin, feel her shaking with suppressed sobs beneath his touch, and the lump in his own throat grows harder, almost painful, his chest tight and breathing shallow.

When they part, she's crying in earnest, eyes growing red, and swipes at her tears with the backs of her hands as she looks up at him. "I don't deserve you," she says through a splintered sob, a heartwrenching sound.

"You deserve better," he says quietly, and she shakes her head frantically. "Go, Wanda, please go."

She looks into his eyes with something unreadable in hers, grips his hand tightly, and breathes in harshly, biting nervously at her lip. "Vision, I-"

"Wanda, if we're gonna go we gotta go now!" Barton's voice forces them apart, makes him realise that the world exists beyond the two of them, and he pushes Wanda gently backwards, averting his gaze from her face crumpling into anguish.

"You have to, before Ross' surveillance picks up on a breach at the compound," he insists, trying not to lose his resolve in the way she's crying, tears streaking down her cheeks. "Please, Wanda, please just go. And please be careful."

"Vizh..." She trails off, lets out a terrible agonised sob and flees out of the door and into the murky darkness, towards the van pale as a ghost in the night and Barton's silhouette.

He listens for the sounds of car doors closing, for the engine sputtering to life and driving away, until the sound is gone and the room feels colder without her, without the knowledge that she might walk through the doors any moment with a smile for him and a flirtatious comment and a familiar caress that feels like a homecoming. Alone in the compound, already feeling as if the ceilings are too high and the walls echo with loneliness, he buries his head in his hands.

When he looks up again at long last, his fingers are shining wet with tears.


	2. everything changes

Curling her hands further into the stretched-out sleeves of her cardigan, Wanda sets her forehead against the window of the van and watches the rain-washed streets flashing by, her eyes still burning with the aftermath of crying and the memory of Vision's utterly broken expression lingering at the forefront of her mind, threatening to make the tears bloom in her eyes once again. It feels like she'll be forever haunted by the way his voice just cracked when he begged her to leave, the way he insisted that she deserves better than him, the waves of misery that she's still not sure if she felt from his mind or were entirely her own.

"How are you doing, kid?" Clint's voice breaks through the fog she's wrapped herself in, and she turns to look at him, his knuckles white on the steering wheel and a muscle jumping in his tightly-gritted jaw as they idle at a red light, but his eyes softened with concern. "You haven't called in a while. The kids miss you."

"Don't," she says shortly, hearing her voice as if it belongs to someone else, dull and broken and emotionless. "I'm not in the mood."

The light turns green, the van starts to roll smoothly forward, and Clint huffs and says, "What do you want me to say? I'm sorry! Steve called me, said him and Sam were having a problem needing to go fight some super soldiers under the radar because of the Accords and asked me to go and bust you out of the compound because Tony had left you locked up there. How was I supposed to know you wanted to stay?"

She stays sullenly quiet, well aware that she's acting like a child but unable to find the strength or will to care, and Clint sighs heavily once again. "For what it's worth, Vision is the one who insisted you leave, not me," he says. "Probably did it so he'll have a reason to get rid of an obligation and go join the rest of Tony's crew in Germany."

"Don't you dare," she says, her voice low and undercut with a quiet kind of fury, and she glances at Clint with red sparking at her fingertips in response to the surge of anger rising like poison in her chest. "Don't you  _dare_  talk about him, you don't know anything, no one does, you all just see him as some kind of  _machine_ , you have no idea who he is, you never even  _tried_ -" Emotion swelling in her chest cuts her off in a ragged dry sob, and she buries her head in her hands and tries to hold herself together, hide the cracks the way she has for so long, never falling apart in front of anyone. Except Vision.

One hand still on the wheel, Clint reaches over to clasp a hand over her shoulder, a gesture that means she has to look up at him, see the concern in his eyes. "Seriously, Wanda, what's going on?" he asks insistently, and she looks away from him, knowing the answer is written all over her face, the words pressing into her throat like shards of glass, tears burning behind her eyes. "You weren't acting like this the last time I visited. Is something wrong with you?"

"I love him." The words escape her in a quiet, broken voice, hanging on the air long after her lips have shaped them, and her knuckles turn white curling into the hem of her shirt, the same shirt that not more than twelve hours ago Vision's hands were sliding beneath as he kissed her and she was joyfully content in his arms, and the tears spill over and down her cheeks before she can blink them away. "Oh my  _God_ , I  _love_  him."

There's a long moment of silence, the van steering through the sheets of rain and the swish of the wipers the only sound, until Clint clears his throat demonstratively and says, "Okay. So obviously you didn't overpower him to leave like I thought you did."

"He let me go," she breathes, wiping tears tinged black with make-up away and sniffing hard, trying to swallow the hard lump in her throat. "He told me to leave, he said he'd lie for me and say I overpowered him to escape. He promised he'll protect me."

"So, you're in love with Vision." Clint states it a tone she can't quite read, each word a seeming effort. "Does he know about this? Because if he knows you love him and he still told you to leave, that's a pretty shitty thing to do."

"I didn't know, I didn't know until he was looking me in the eye and telling me he wanted to stand up for me and stop everyone from thinking I'm some kind of monster, I wasn't sure until I cried when I kissed him and I didn't have  _time_ , I wanted to tell him but you interrupted me and I didn't know how, how do you ever tell someone you love them seconds before you're separated, maybe never to see each other again, I don't  _know_ -"

"Whoa, whoa - you kissed him?" She's pulled out of her own thoughts as another red light holds them up, Clint staring at her wide-eyed. "Since when do you two have a...kissing connection? That was the first time, right? Heat of the moment, overwhelmed with emotion, that sort of thing?"

"No, we...well, we slept together before the mission in Lagos," she says, and Clint lets out a choking, spluttering sound. "So...around six weeks ago now, almost seven. Nothing changed afterwards, we're not dating or anything, but it took me this long to figure out how I feel about him and now he's  _gone_..." She dissolves into quiet, broken sobs, muffled into her hands, and only looks up when Clint's hand squeezes at her shoulder again.

"It'll be okay, kiddo," he says, and reaches into the glove compartment to hand her a packet of tissues. "If it's meant to be, it'll be. That's how romance works. Once the timing's right, if the chemistry and the communication is there, it happens. You can ask Laura next time you see her all about that, her and Tasha bonded over all her stories about how long it took for us to get our act together."

Wanda laughs wetly through her tears, scrubbing a tissues ferociously over her wet cheeks, but grabs at the door handle when her stomach lurches, an unpleasantly familiar sensation. "Pull over."

"I can't pull over on this road, and we're almost there," Clint says, the tone of a man used to children whining on long car journeys.

"Clint, pull over!" The sharp shrillness of the panic in her voice makes him turn to look at her, and the brakes screech as he brings the van lurching to a halt on the side of the road, just fast enough for her to unbuckle her seatbelt and jerk the door open to lean out and throw up, humiliated tears springing hot to her eyes. She hears the click of the second seatbelt, the engine still humming beneath her, and feels Clint's hand rubbing her back, making her heart splinter even more knowing that it's not Vision taking care of her, missing the peaceful glow of his mind and his gentleness and the kisses brushed against her forehead and her temple and the top of her head and her shoulders.

"Hope there aren't any paparazzi around to notice an Avenger puking on the side of the road," Clint remarks, an obvious attempt at humour, and she shoots him a glare even as she accepts the bottle of water he offers, rinsing her mouth and spitting out of the door before slamming it shut. "Travel sickness? Wouldn't surprise me if you'd gotten a touch of it living with that lot, Tasha, Sam and Rhodey all drive like maniacs."

"The flu, I think," she says, taking a long sip of water and shifting in her seat to alleviate the twinge of pain at the small of her back. "I started getting headaches just as we got back from Lagos, then it turned into backache and fainting spells and nausea. Vizh was helping me deal with it."

"You haven't seen a doctor?" Clint asks, and she gives him a withering look, pulling her seatbelt across as he pulls away from the verge and back into the flow of traffic. "Don't look at me like that, if you think it's the flu you should talk to someone. Especially if you're still experiencing symptoms, you've been back from Lagos for almost four weeks. That's too long for it to just be..." He trails off, staring straight ahead at the road, and she sips slowly at her water, staring at the concerned furrow in his brow.

Sleep must take her, because she opens her eyes hours later as Clint brings the van to a jerking halt outside a nondescript suburban house on a quiet street. She watches him lift a hood to hide his face as he walks up the driveway to the front door, sinking lower in her seat in an attempt to get comfortable, missing Vision more with every passing minute, the fact that she barely had to open her mouth for him to know something was wrong. No complaint was too small for him to attempt to find a solution, his neverending patience and gentleness with her ever since they met making her feel hollow with the memories now, her heart heavy with the dull ache of leaving him behind.

Clint returns to the car with another man rushing along beside him, climbing into the back of the van and grinning brightly when he meets Wanda's eyes in the rearview mirror. "I know you! You're the Scarlet Witch - I mean,Wanda Maximoff! You're great!" he exclaims in a rush, and she can only give him a weak smile. "Seriously though, my daughter thinks you're amazing, she wants to be just like you when she grows up. Even my ex-wife, her mom, thinks you're a pretty good role model! Oh, I'm Scott, by the way. Scott Lang. Ant Man."

Wanda's stomach lurches, yet again, and she lets out a low groan and turns to meet his eyes. "Can I use your bathroom before we leave?" she asks quietly, and Scott's eyes light up.

"Sure, sure, absolutely, here are the keys, it's the first door on the right," he says, throwing her a keyring, and she scrambles out of the van and darts into the house before Clint has even finished shouting her name.

When she climbs back into the car, shaking but feeling better having been able to use mouthwash and splash cold water over her flushed face, Clint is giving her a suspicious, probing look. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asks, and she arches an eyebrow him.

"There's a lot of things I'm not telling you, and you don't want to know them," she says, suppressing a smile at Scott's utterly enraptured expression reflected in the rearview mirror, his gaze swivelling between her and Clint. "Now instead of asking stupid questions get us moving."

"Wanda, seriously," Clint says, and he's staring at her piercingly, gaze flickering over her. "There's nothing you're not telling me? No secret? You can tell me, I swear. It might help this entire shitty situation."

Despite the sincerity in his eyes, she can't see what he's getting at, doesn't know what secret he could possibly be asking her to reveal, and instead smirks and says, "Well, unless you  _want_  to know what you interrupted showing up at the compound..."

"No thank you," Clint says quickly, and reverses away from the kerb and back into the traffic. "Feel free to sleep in the back there, Scott, we've got a long journey. You too, Wanda. You need your rest." He shifts his hands on the wheel, looks over at her and says, "Maybe I should call Steve and say bringing you along to fight trained enhanced assassins is stupid. You're ill, whether it's the flu or not, maybe I should just drop you at the farmhouse or something and you can stay with Laura and the kids and out of the way."

"I'm  _fine_ ," she snaps, anger flaring up, and he looks away. "God, just leave me  _alone_. You turn up at the compound to rescue me and drag me into this nonsense and now you're trying to send me out of the way. No fucking way am I leaving now, Clint. We're going to Germany, we're going to fight these assassins and then I'm going to figure out how to get myself back to the compound with Vizh."

There's a long moment of silence, her fury boiling close to the surface as she adjusts herself in her seat, attempting to get comfortable enough to sleep and ignore Clint for the duration of the journey, acting like a sulking child. But Clint sighs and says, "Fine, I guess you know your body and if you say you can handle this then you can. But Wanda, seriously, if you feel at any time that you can't, that you're too tired or too sore or too nauseous, just tell me."

"I said I'm fine," she repeats, and he doesn't try to push the subject again. Instead she curls down in her seat, pulls her cardigan tighter around her, and tries to fall asleep, her thoughts returning to the nights with Vision at her side, the one night she spent wrapped in his arms. As her eyes slip closed and the world swims at the edges, she can almost pretend that she is there again, that her life isn't falling apart at the seams, that she's with the man she loves and nothing can tear them apart.

* * *

Tension rules the room, Rhodes suited up but for his mask and quietly talking with T'Challa as the sirens ring out across the airport signalling the evacuation, Romanoff adjusting the voltage of the electrical charges built into her suit and the young man the only one excited, looking around the room with wonder in his eyes and the mask to match his brightly-coloured suit in his hand. Vision sits alone, barely thinking of the inevitable fight with Rogers' group and thinking only of Wanda, the way she looked at him with tear-filled eyes and the last kiss, the hours he spent sitting alone until one of Ross' teams turned up and he fabricated a story about her overpowering him, running into the night. Part of him almost wishes it had happened that way, wishes that she'd let her anger dictate her actions instead of crumpling at the edges, wishes that her broken sobs weren't still playing on a loop through his mind.

Footsteps heavy in his suit, an unexplained bruise dark around his eye, Stark sits down next to him and turns with a probing expression, a quizzical frown furrowing his brow. "I hope you don't seriously think that you can fob us off the way you did with Ross," he says darkly, and Vision avoids his gaze, gathers his emotions and pushes them away, trying to keep them from painting themselves across his face. Wanda would always laugh and tell him he was an open book, that she didn't even have to use her powers to know what was going on in his head when they were together. He has to hope that was a power exclusive to her, because they have always been close. He can't allow anyone else to see inside his mind so easily, to know exactly what's going on. "I don't believe for a second that little Ms. Maximoff managed to overpower you. So what happened?"

Vision doesn't answer, staring straight ahead and resisting the urge to fidget nervously, and Stark sighs. "Listen, Vision, Ross is already out for your blood since you let her overpower you. Nothing in the compound was damaged - what exactly did she do?"

"I let her go." The answer escapes him in a quiet, rushed breath of words, his fingers curling into fists to hide their trembling.

Wide-eyed, Stark incredulously asks, " _What_? Vision, she's dangerous, you know that better than anybody, the UN basically consider her a weapon of mass destruction, on top of that she's ill and we have no idea how that might affect her powers, and you let her  _go_? You just let her stroll out of the compound?"

"I had to," Vision says, the one thing he's sure of. "What I did was wrong, Mr. Stark. The weapon that the UN sees is not who she is. They don't see the woman I do."

"I know that, Vision, I know she's just a kid trying as hard as she can and what happened in Lagos was an accident," Stark says. "But why did you let her go? Ross was furious, there's a possibility he'll arrest you for aiding her escaping. Why did you  _have_  to?"

"Because I love her." No words have ever felt so simple to say, a fact of life as obvious as the earth orbiting the sun or the inevitability of the stars burning out. Something that has grown and matured in the back of his mind the closer his and Wanda's friendship became, something that solidified from the vaguest notion to truth when their relationship became intimate, the knowledge that his heart belongs to her, that it always has and always will. "It wouldn't be right to keep her a prisoner. She deserves better than that." His voice is far quieter, meant more for himself than for Stark to hear, when he adds, "Better than me."

"You love her?" Vision looks at Stark, the shock in his expression. "You're in love with her. Devotion and trust and wanting to stay together forever and all that jazz in love with her?" A look that flashes across his face must be answer enough, because Stark lets out a long breath before saying, "I didn't think that was possible."

"Neither did I." Silence rules for a long moment, Vision fighting to suppress the emotion that rises in his chest, the regret that stains his thoughts, the certain knowledge that he missed his chance to take Wanda in his arms and tell her of his feelings, to even begin to hope that she might return them. Perhaps that hope is foolish, a woman like her could never love him, but she allowed their relationship to change, to become intimate, she initiated kisses and made flirtatious comments and curled up against him in quiet moments. If they'd had the time, the right moment, perhaps it could've been more.

Stark is the one to break the tension first, clearing his throat loudly and pointedly and brusquely saying, "You know why you're here. Stay out of the way, keep watch, don't let Rogers or Barnes get away and make sure nobody gets seriously hurt." He stands, gears in his suit whirring and humming, and crosses to the room to join Rhodes, the two men descending into quiet murmuring.

When the other five leave for the makeshift battlefield far below, assembling in a line opposite Rogers and his makeshift team, Vision waits in the control tower, watching the proceedings, the way Stark wavers between rage and misery as he speaks too quickly to read the words from so far away. He recognises Barnes from the constant photographs splashed across every news network since the explosion at the signing of the Accords, sees Wilson's wings reflecting the sunlight as he lands next to Rogers, and feels the twinge of irrational hatred when he recognises Barton, already holding his bow with an arrow nocked, ready for a fight.

Though he tries not to, knowing it will bring him only pain, his eyes insist on drifting to Wanda, dressed the brightest of anyone standing with Rogers, and his heart stops to see her. Ignorant of Stark's plan, made over the course of several hours in the centre of the airport waiting for the evacuation to be approved through the correct channels, he phases through the tower windows and dives to join the groups staring each other down, hovering behind Stark and sweeping a look over Rogers' group, the anger behind each pair of eyes, and the expression that could almost be called wonder on the face of a man he doesn't recognise.

The rush of emotion when his eyes catch Wanda's is overwhelming, nearly causing him to lose control of his density and fall out of flight. He notices immediately that she looks exhausted, possibly even more so than she did when she left the compound, that her dark hair and the red of her clothes accentuates how pale she is, that behind the initial steely confidence in her eyes is only the vulnerability he knows, and every fibre of his being aches to go to her, to put his arms around her and whisper his feelings and ignore the situation they've been swept up in. Blocking out the growing tension as Stark and Rogers converse, he entertains a fantasy of taking her away from everything, releasing both of them from their ties to the Avengers, taking her somewhere far away where their life won't be affected by the US government or the UN or supervillains or aliens or  _anything_.

One of Barton's arrows flying close enough to his shoulder to feel the rush of air brings him back to reality, seeing the groups rush towards each other and the fighting begin. His duties have to be attended to, making sure no one is seriously hurt, circling the fighting and sending anything he can crashing down to block access to the hangars still holding jets, but his eyes always stray back to Wanda. He watches with pride warm in his chest seeing her using her powers, scarlet mists enveloping debris and protecting people, lifting her over the shattered propellor of a helicopter hurled into the madness, and twinges of fury spike hot through him when he sees Barton protecting her, shielding her with his body as explosions fill the air with flickering flames and thick black smoke. That should be him protecting her, it should be him straightening up and putting a hand to her face and making sure she's alright. He wouldn't be like Barton and run away, leaving her standing alone in the centre of a fight that's gotten so quickly out of control, he would stay at her side until the battle was done.

Stark's shouting becomes temporarily overwhelming in Vision's earpiece, demanding he assist in the fighting, keeping anyone from being hurt by the debris, shots of golden light halving the vehicles that Rogers' new ally, enormous with some function of his suit, is tossing around the fight. Wilson has been cornered, and one of Stark's bullets catches the edge of his wing, knocking him out of flight. Vision watches Wanda's hands rise, wrapping Wilson in red with a flick of her fingers and lowering him to the ground, and she turns to see him watching her. The sounds of battle fade into mere background noise, and as he gazes at her he's not sure if it's wishful thinking or if she truly does smile at him.

Her scream when Rhodes' sonic beam hits her seems to slice straight through him, more agonising than he believes any physical injury could be. For once, Vision is grateful to hear Barton gruffly shouting something incomprehensible above the sound of gunshots and yelling and the low roar of the flames surging up from destroyed engines, watching the arrow fly through the air and barely miss Rhodes. With a shout, the silver-suited man turns in mid-air and soars away in pursuit of Barton, and Vision dives to the ground, catches Wanda as she stumbles and falls, a grey tinge to her skin and her eyelids fluttering weakly as she gazes up at him.

The smile that brightens her eyes is true, and she shifts in his arms and cups a hand to his cheek. Her touch makes his eyes burn with tears, and he leans into it, turning his head to kiss her palm. "Are you alright?" he asks anxiously, smoothing a hand through her hair to loop it behind her ear. "I'm so sorry, Wanda, I should've stopped him."

"You can't control the whole world, Vizh," she says softly, and grips at him to straighten up. He holds her hands tightly in his to help her to her feet, his arm instinctively wrapping around her waist when she stumbles, and she sets her hands on his chest and smiles into his eyes. "God, you are so beautiful."

"I think you may have a slight concussion," he says, and she laughs softly. "Wanda, I..." He trails off, everything he wants to say a building pressure in his chest, overwhelming. "There's so much I want to say, Wanda, so much, and we don't have time, they're going to arrest you, this fight is the last straw to Secretary Ross, they've been on standby all this time in case the situation turned nasty, they'll already be on their way."

"You don't have to say anything," she says softly, linking her fingers with his, a soft reassuring smile on her face. "You let me leave. You set me free. You put me first, exactly the way you always have. That's all I need from you, Vizh. I just want  _you_."

He kisses her, releasing her hand to wrap both arms tightly around her, and tears escape as his eyes fall closed, but he can't bring himself to care. She should know that she awakens emotional responses he's never known before in his heart and his mind, should know that when she moves closer and winds her arms around his neck that she makes his heart beat impossibly faster and he's overwhelmed with his feelings for her, should know that she makes him forget that they're standing at the edges of a fight among their friends and the rattle of gunshots echoes out across the concrete and the intrusive smell of smoke clings to the air. There is only her.

She breaks the kiss first, lifts her hands to cup his face, brushes a tear away with her thumb and gently pulls him down to press their foreheads together. "It's okay," she says softly, and he can't help the few tears that fall, her soft fond smile tinged with sadness. "I knew this would happen."

"It shouldn't," he insists, lifting his head away from hers, anger and sadness at the unfairness of it all surging through him in equal measure. "This is all ridiculous, you've done nothing but stand up for what you believe in, nothing so wrong it's worthy of arrest. You deserve so much better than this."

"So do you." Her voice is soft but strong, and she looks up at him with a ferocity behind her eyes that near takes his breath away. "Don't forget that, Vizh." She rises onto her toes to kiss his cheek, a soft press of her lips that he's sure he'll feel the lingering warmth of for hours longer, and her breath is warm against his skin as she whispers, "This isn't goodbye."

Letting her walk away is an effort, but he knows that trying to cling to her will make everything far worse than it already is, and instead stands alone to watch the armoured vans belonging the the military circling Rogers and his allies, soldiers in full body armour aiming their guns at the group of six, each of them raising their hands in surrender. Instinct screams at him to run into the fray when he watches a masked man handcuff Wanda, sees her wince as the metal clasps around her wrists, and he twitches momentarily, aching to protect her.

"Don't." He turns his head to see Romanoff standing nearby, bloodied and bruised and much the worse for wear physically, exhaustion obvious in her expression. "Just stay still. Never let them see that they get to you. One false move, and we're all locked up." She moves towards him, making him almost uncomfortable with how obviously she's searching his expression for answers, and asks, "How long has it been going on?"

There's no point in fabricating a lie, not knowing as he does that Stark was unconvinced by the tall tale that seemed to satisfy Ross, and Vision simply answers, "The night before you left for the mission in Lagos."

"I thought so," she says, and takes the last few steps to close the gap between them. "I know how it feels, I promise. It will hurt. But this is going to blow over. It has to. Things are going to work out."

Watching soldiers unceremoniously bundle Wanda into an armoured car, slamming the doors closed and hiding her ashen, uncertain face, Vision can't help but feel that Romanoff is trying to convince herself as much as she is trying to reassure him.

* * *

Picking at the coarse fabric of the dull blue prison uniforms, her own clothes already sealed into bags and set aside, Wanda watches the way that the Raft sinking into the water makes the shadows flicker eerily across the walls. "Listen up!" The gruff voice of one of the soldiers startles her out of her reverie, a man standing at the centre of the room and looking contemptuously around at her and the people she chose for teammates, all of them now in dull blue rather than their distinct uniforms. "Before we move you to your cells, you'll each have a medical examination. The UN wants a full genetic profile on all of you so-called  _heroes_. If any of you even think about trying to run...well, you'll regret it, let's put it that way."

"C'mon, man, at least give us a real threat," Sam says, his slight crooked grin ruined by the split in his lip and the dark bruise stretching across his cheek.

"Enjoy your jokes now, Wilson," the soldier says, a cruel smirk curling the corner of his mouth and sending a chill down Wanda's spine. "For now, we can't hurt you. But wait until the Accords are finalised and you're all sentenced for your crimes." Moving a hand threateningly to rest on the gun holstered at his hip, he opens the door to their cell and welcomes in six more soldiers, one for each of them.

Wanda meets Clint's eyes for a split second as a soldier with their face hidden behind a tinted mask grabs the chain between her handcuffs and pulls her roughly to her feet, and he does nothing but grit his jaw and give her the smallest, almost imperceptible nod. Cooperation is their only option, trying to run won't help anything, she only has to look at the way the other five stand and follow the soldiers to know that. She fights to keep hopelessness from overwhelming her as she watches Clint leave the small room, fights to hold on to the belief that everything will work out. It has to. She promised Vision that their kiss wasn't goodbye. She can't lose him. Not now.

"Ms. Maximoff." She tries not to let the wash of relief show on her face when she sees the Raft has, at least, deigned to let a woman take care of her rather than a man. And the medical room they've placed her in appears to be well-stocked, the lights bright, and the woman who looks at her has a warmth behind her eyes if not in her tight smile, adjusting her white coat as the guard jerks Wanda towards the chair in the centre of the room. "I'm Doctor Wells. Anderson, get those handcuffs off her and wait at the door."

Handcuffs removed, Wanda curls her feet beneath her and tries to rub the feeling back into her wrists, the sterile white of the walls almost painful to look at after hours drifting in and out of consciousness in a locked van, then an armoured helicopter, and waiting to hear her fate in a dimly-lit room. Vision has never been far from her thoughts, every lurch of nausea that she forced down accompanied by a dull ache in her chest, knowing that he would've known without her even having to tell him, comforted her and held her and pressed a sweet kiss to the back of her neck. Missing him is already bring a hollowness to her heart, even though it was only hours ago that she pressed her lips to his cheek in farewell, watched the tears fall from his eyes because of her, tried to tell him without words the truth of her feelings for him.

"Okay, Ms. Maximoff, hopefully this isn't going to take too long," Doctor Wells says, bringing her out of her memories, reliving the moment when Vision abandoned the fight to come to her aid, steadied her and held her and looked at her with so much she's still trying to decipher behind his eyes. "So you had your blood sample taken when you arrived, I'm going to take a look at that. Is there anything else we should know that might affect how you can be imprisoned? Allergies, any injuries prior to the airport, anything concerning?"

"It's probably nothing," she says, shifting slightly, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth at the thought of how Vision would react to her minimising her illness, the way he'd insist on helping no matter how much she insisted that it was nothing, all the time they've known each other, even the merest cough making him concerned. "I've just had the flu for a few weeks now. Or I think it's the flu. Fatigue, headaches, backache, nausea, dizziness - I didn't think it could be anything else."

"Well, that's something we have medication here to deal with," Doctor Wells says. "Alright, Ms. Maximoff, we'll take a look at your blood test results and then deal with those cuts and bruises. Everything looks superficial to me."

With a nod, trying to keep the steeliness in her eyes rather than allowing her situation to overwhelm her, she sits and waits as Doctor Wells stares at the sheets of paper, daring to allow herself a daydream, a fantasy that perhaps Vision will free her again, just as he let her go from the compound. The man she loves won't simply abandon her, that she's sure of, not unless it was for her own good. He will fight for her, because she's sure that no one who signed the Accords would've done so knowing that objection meant imprisonment. Her tangled hopes are pinned on Vision, that she'll get to see him again, and finally she'll be able to fall into his arms in front of the whole world and proclaim her love for him, to begin a life with him at her side.

Doctor Wells clearing her throat brings reality crashing back to Wanda's mind, and a chill of fear steals down her spine when she sees the frown on the woman's face as she squints down at the papers that hold the results of Wanda's blood test. Of course, things will be different, the mind stone changed her entire being and awoke her powers, but she can't help the foreboding that whatever is making the doctor frown isn't the abnormalities in her physiology caused by absorbing radiation from an alien stone. "Ms. Maximoff, when was your last period?" she asks, her fingers white-knuckled at the edges of the paper.

It takes an effort to remember, the past weeks a blur of stress and fear and the bright spots of happiness spent with Vision, and the silence lingers before she finds the answer. "Around nine weeks ago."

"And that didn't strike you as abnormal?" The tone of Doctor Well's voice is making terror creep up on her like a cold mist, and more than anything she wishes she had Vision with her, for the calm oasis of his mind she's clung to every time the world threatened to overwhelm her for the past year.

"Not really, I've been stressed and sick and scared, I didn't even think about it," she says, and Doctor Wells' frown deepens. "Why? If you're seeing something different, it's because of my powers. I had samples taken when I joined the Avengers."

"Abnormalities due to your powers was what we expected to see," Doctor Wells says, and looks up at Wanda with her face a solemn mask. "What I'm seeing on top of that is high levels of hCG hormone in your blood. You're pregnant, Ms. Maximoff."

White noise crashes in her ears, a feeling akin to being submerged in ice water taking hold of her, cold clinging to her skin. "What?" Her voice sounds so far-away, foreign to her own ears, her hands slack at her sides and the feeling gone from her fingers. "But...but I can't be. You have to be reading it wrong."

"False positives are rare even with home pregnancy tests," Doctor Wells says, still looking at the papers, seemingly unaware of Wanda's entire life collapsing like a house of cards in the wind, panic clawing its way into her throat, choking her. "A blood test is at least 98% accurate, and you have said that you suspected you were suffering from the flu. Many early pregnancy symptoms can be mistaken for the flu if you're not planning a family. Headaches, backache, nausea, fatigue, dizziness - combining all of that with a positive result, the result is clear. You  _are_  pregnant."

"You don't understand!" Her voice has pitched higher suddenly, every breath ragged as the panic threatens to overtake her mind, tears burning behind her eyes and her hands shaking so hard their movement blurs in front of her eyes. "I can't be...it doesn't make sense!"

"Have you had unprotected penetrative sex since your last period?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then I'm afraid that that's the final nail in the coffin," Doctor Wells says, with a slight shrug, as if this is something that happens every day, something that isn't causing black shadows to creep into the edges of Wanda's vision, her head spinning and her stomach churning and tears spilling over, streaking hot down her cheeks. "I'm surprised you weren't already aware."

"Of course I wasn't aware!" she shrieks, glowing red lacing its way across her skin, a tray of papers flying across the room and crashing against the wall, empty glass vials rolling over the edges of tables and clattering to the floor with a symphony of shattering glass. "You're lying, you  _have_  to be, I can't be pregnant, I  _can't_  be, it's not possible!"

Words fail her, the force of the sobs so powerful that her chest aches with them, the details of the room and the voices fading away into nothing, her mind locking her in. They have to be lying, a tall tale that somehow plays into their manipulation, trying to break her apart to make her easier to lock away. She can't be pregnant, it's beyond all boundaries of logic and reason, one night with Vision can't have turned everything upside-down, he's  _synthetic_ , there's just no reason to believe that he would ever be able to have a baby. But the longer she stays bent double, her arms wrapped around herself, crying, the more the explanation for her illness seems less and less likely to be the flu, the more her logic dictates that pregnancy is the only explanation, the more she begins to entertain the belief that she  _is_  pregnant.

The door crashes open, there's a clash of gruff voices that breaks through her panicked haze, and then a hand on her arm. "What the  _fuck_  did you do to her?" comes a voice, familiar, but not the one she wants to hear, desperately waiting to wake up from a dream and find Vision at her side. "Wanda, my God, it's alright, they'll pay for this."

"We did nothing, Mr. Barton," comes Doctor Wells' voice, bristling with outrage, and Wanda clings to Clint's closeness, turning her face away from reality and into his shoulder, immediately soaking the rough prison uniform fabric with her tears. "Ms. Maximoff is pregnant. We simply informed her of this fact."

Clint's hand contracts reflexively on her arm, a dull ache that brings her back to reality a little more, reminds her that this isn't a dream, it's  _real_ , and his arm slides around her, his other hand cupping the back of her head and pulling her tighter against him. "Get out," he says, voice low and dangerous.

"Mr. Barton, if you seriously think we're going to leave two such dangerous people alone in a room together-"

"We're underwater, what the hell are we gonna do to escape?!" Clint shouts, and Wanda tries to burrow further into him, hiding from the world and what it's chosen to do to her. "You've sprung this life-changing news on her with no preparation, the least you can do is give her a little privacy and let her process."

She lifts her head when the door swings closed, looking around to see that her and Clint are alone in the room, and he loosens his grip on her slightly, pulling the edge of his sleeve over his hand and dabbing at her tear-streaked face. "I can't be," she whispers, her voice broken and jagged from crying and breathless panic. "I can't be pregnant, Clint, tell them I can't be."

He sets his hands on her shoulders, waits for her to look up into his eyes, so serious, and says, "I know how terrifying this is, Wanda, trust me. But can you really, truly, honestly look me in the eyes and tell me that this doesn't all add up?"

Wiping her eyes, her breathing still shallow and hitching with emotion, she looks away from Clint, down at her lap, and tries to say, "But I didn't-"

"Yes, you did," he insists, urgency in his voice and concern painted across his face. "You said that you and Vision ended up in bed before Lagos. You were in Lagos for three weeks. It's been four since you got back. When you got back, you started feeling ill. False-positive pregnancy tests don't happen very often - not when you've been experiencing symptoms and you know when you could've conceived."

His voice is so soft and gentle to be saying things that make her life suddenly so different, everything changing around her, and she tries a last protest. "But he's not...he  _can't_  be-"

"Okay, that part doesn't completely make sense, but when do any of our lives ever completely make sense?" A hint of a smile cracks the solemn mask of Clint's expression, and she gazes at him, her sobs having calmed, her breathing evened out and her head stopped spinning. "There wasn't anyone else?" She glares at him, and he chuckles. "Just making sure. There's only one explanation that makes sense. You know that."

"I'm pregnant." Her voice is quiet, but her resolve is strong, and Clint nods, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. She puts a hand to her stomach, and the tears that spring to her eyes aren't born of fear, but of disbelief. Disbelief at her situation, disbelief that any of this is possible, disbelief at the fact that she is, perhaps, beginning to feel warmth creep into her heart. That she is  _lucky_ , a tear born of sudden happiness spilling over when she blinks. A smile, faint and small but still real, pulls at the corners of her mouth, and she looks up into Clint's eyes. "Clint, I'm  _pregnant_."

"I know," he says, and his smile stretches into a grin as he watches her set both hands on her stomach, imagining when there will be physical evidence, a bump to show that she's expecting a child, a son or daughter. She's going to have a baby. Vision's baby.

"You know," Clint's voice, returned to solemnity, pulls her back into the moment, the reality that they're sitting in the medical bay of one of the most secure prisons in the world, "they're going to ask you who the father is."

"Then I'll lie," she says, no need to even think it over. "Vizh lied to protect me. If they find out he's the father, he might end up arrested too. They'll experiment on him. He doesn't deserve that." Shifting in her seat, hands falling away from her stomach, she says, "No one can prove I wasn't secretly seeing someone. A civilian. I'll tell them that, that it was a one night stand." She straightens up, trying to project confidence. "The UN aren't going to know what to do with me now. They'll have no idea how to feel about it."

"But how do  _you_  feel about it?" Clint asks, startling her and sending her mind in a dozen different directions at once. "It's normal to be scared. The first time we found out Laura was pregnant, I was terrified, and we were in our thirties and married and planning for children. You're just...you're so  _young_."

Tracing a circle over her stomach, hardly even noticing herself doing so, wondering if it's wishful thinking or if there is more a curve than there usually is, the beginnings of a bump, she muses, "My mother got married at eighteen and was pregnant by nineteen. Her circumstances made her take a chance on my father, and she was right about him." She meets Clint's gaze, the question behind his eyes, and says, "Sleeping with Vision wasn't planned, but it happened and I don't regret it and never will. This...me being pregnant, that's not planned either. But it's...the baby isn't a mistake." She smiles, a true smile, and says, "It's a miracle."

Clint grins at her, pride shining in his eyes, and she hugs him, his arms wrapping tightly around her. His soft whisper of, "Congratulations," makes her smile grow, regardless of the circumstances. It's enough that she's going to have a baby with the man she loves.

* * *

Elsewhere in the Raft, wardens watch the screens showing that four of the six prisoners brought to their doors have been placed in a room for containment, awaiting the final two of the group. Rachel moves past all of them, the message Anderson charged her with delivering still circling around and around in her head, incomprehensible. It feels like something she'd read and raise an eyebrow at on a gossip site that connects a new pair of celebrities as a couple every other day, not something that is happening and has just thrown the UN and Secretary Ross' plans for the former Avengers who refused to sign the Accords for a loop.

Ross himself waits in the belly of the prison, eyes smouldering with suppressed anger as he alternates between watching screens, barking orders into an earpiece connected to the senior soldiers in the prison and speaking soothingly into a line direct to the UN. "...no reason to be concerned, ma'am, simply a slight delay in processing these criminals through the medical examination," he says, oily charm clinging cloyingly to every word, and Rachel suppresses a shudder. Something about the Secretary of State just sets her on edge, especially when he notices her and says, "Let me call you back, ma'am, I may have some news."

Ross' bodyguard smiles at her from the corner of the room, a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and is chilling rather than charming, and she gulps as Ross sets his phone down and barks, "What is taking so long, Peterson? I've been on the line with the UN for three hours, reassuring them there's no setback, they're beginning to suspect I'm trying to cover up an escape! Get those prisoners to their cells now!"

Clasping her hands behind her back to hide that her fingers are shaking, she says, "Sir, Anderson sent me to speak with you about this. It's the witch- uh, Ms. Maximoff, sir. She's the reason for the delay."

"Oh for God's sake, do none of you have any idea how to deal with these enhanced criminals?" Ross spits, and she flinches, noticing Ross' bodyguard grinning at her reaction. "The UN are waiting to make a statement on the capture of these dangerous criminals, the public must see that anyone standing against the Accords will be severely punished. Slap a pair of handcuffs on her, a straitjacket if you have to, and get her to her cell  _now_!"

She gulps nervously, wishing that she hadn't been the one chosen to deliver this message. But Anderson is her superior, and still standing outside the medical bay to make sure neither Barton nor Maximoff tries anything stupid, and everyone is busy guarding the other four superheroes. She starts to repeat herself, not quite knowing how to simply come out with the revelation that hasn't completely settled into her mind yet, "We can't, sir, she's-"

"She's  _what_?" Ross snaps, voice taut with tension, clearly about to snap into unbridled rage that she definitely doesn't want to be around to witness. "Wrecked the medical bay? Injured someone? That's what we got the collar for, the entire reason we had it manufactured after that disaster in Lagos! Sedate her, get the collar on her and lock her up before she escapes!"

"Sir, she's pregnant." The words seem to ring through the silence long after she's spoken them, as she watches Ross' expression transform from the beginnings of rage to shock, through confusion and into a solemn, business-like mask.

"So what you're telling me is that this delay has been caused because one of the criminals we have just arrested is pregnant?" he asks, and his voice sends a chill down her spine, every word a seeming effort against swelling rage. "And how do we know this?"

"Doctor Wells found it in Ms. Maximoff's blood test, apparently the witch had no idea, they had to call Barton up from the the cells to calm her down before someone got hurt," she explains. "Wells says she's nine weeks pregnant."

"And who's the father?" Ross asks, his voice on the knife-edge between rage and acceptance.

"She says he was a civilian, a one night stand, but she won't give a name," Rachel explains, and that breaks Ross' mask, anger contorting his expression and make his eyes hard as steel. "We just want to know what our next step should be, sir."

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Ross' bodyguard asks, arching an eyebrow. "Get a pair of handcuffs on her and force her to admit who the father is so he can be contacted and the issue can be resolved. Our equipment has gotten people to admit much darker secrets than who knocked them up."

"Don't be  _ridiculous_ , Emmerson, we can't torture a pregnant woman, no matter her crimes," Ross snaps, and Emmerson sags in his chair with a terrifying look of disappointment. "Peterson, get the other prisoners to their cells. Keep the witch in the medical bay, for now. Allow me to make a few calls."

* * *

Alone in the medical bay, Clint having been placed back in handcuffs and marched to the cells below by a guard who stared at Wanda with confusion in his gaze, she lets her hand map out her stomach, the slightest new curve that she'll watch grow with her child. It's still a struggle to organise her thoughts, to wrap her mind around the fact that she's going to be a mother. Barely turned twenty, and pregnant. Now a criminal to the world, someone to be feared, but this baby will look to her for everything in the world, never be frightened of her.

Resting her hand on her stomach, smiling at the knowledge of the simple yet incredible fact that a life is forming inside her, her thoughts drift to Vision, wondering where he is. If he's alright. If he's missing her, if he's trying to free her, if he even knows where she is. She wanted him at her side the moment the soldiers slammed the doors closed on the scene of the half-destroyed airport and her freedom, a want that has grown, turned into a  _need_ , with this revelation. All she wants is to look him in the eyes, tell him she loves him, hope he returns her feelings. Tell him he's going to be a father. If she'd only put the pieces together sooner - but how could she? There was no reason to believe that she and Vision could be capable of conceiving. In her weaker moments, entertaining a fantasy of living a life with him, starting a family, her assumption was always that they would adopt. A child like she was, lost and alone, someone she could give a better childhood to than she ever got to have.

How will he feel, knowing? She's not stupid - she knows the lie will have to stay in place, that the UN will need to believe that the father of her child is an unnamed civilian, or she puts Vision's freedom at risk. But in her wildest hopes, futile as they may be, she thinks of being freed from the Raft, reuniting with Vision and being allowed to tell him, watch the emotions play through his eyes when he knows the miracle they've been blessed with. Will he be happy? He'll undoubtedly be shocked, just as she was - it doesn't make sense in the slightest. But then, neither does his existence, born of a cradle and stolen metal and Ultron's base consciousness and Stark's AI and an infinity stone. Yet he lives, he looks on the world with a wonder and a joy to be alive that made her fall in love with him, and now he's going to have a baby. They're going to be parents.

Her hands snap back to her sides when the doors opens and she pushes all thought of Vision away as Ross walks into the room, flanked by guards on either side of him and with a tense smile on his lips, frozen in place like that of a doll, clearly liable to fade into anger at the slightest provocation. "Ms. Maximoff," he says, voice thin and sharp, and she stares him down, "may I offer a congratulations on your pregnancy?"

"Not if you're going to force my child to be born in prison," she snaps, and Ross bristles, anger flashing across his eyes. "What do you want, Secretary? I meant what I said to your soldiers - I can't remember the father's name."

"Our concern isn't the father of your child, Ms. Maximoff, only your safety," Ross says, coming closer to her, face set in a mask of sympathy that she sees straight through. "The UN are not monsters. No one wants to see this baby born in the Raft. I've spoken with my associates at the UN, and we've come to the conclusion that you are not going to be imprisoned here."

Though she tries to hide it, they must catch some glimpse of the relief that rushes through her. "Am I going back to the compound?" she asks, trying to keep her voice level, not to let her hope and excitement show. Maybe she'll see Vision far sooner than expected, fall into his arms, set his hands on her stomach and tell him that she's pregnant with their child.

"The UN is sympathetic towards your situation, Ms. Maximoff, but we're not stupid," Ross scoffs, and she deflates. "You've escaped from the compound once, of course you're not going back there. We've arranged a safehouse for you through SHIELD channels. You will be confined there by a group of guards. SHIELD is sending a doctor to tend to your care."

"But I want to go back to the compound." She speaks softly, more of a thought spoken aloud than something she truly means to say, her hopes of seeing Vision and the first stable home she's known in ten years again going up in smoke.

"You should've thought of that before you overpowered the Vision to escape," Ross says, and she bristles to hear him refer to Vision like he's a  _thing_ , while her heart warms to hear the confirmation that he lied for her, told everyone that she overpowered him and ran, protected her. "Your only option is this generous offer or a cell here. In the interests of your child, you'd do well to accept this kind gesture."

She wants to fight back, to spit in the face of the UN imprisoning her for violating a document she hadn't yet put her signature to, insist that she'd rather stay in the Raft with the other five than be given special treatment, call her powers to the surface and tear the room apart. But she can't. Hers isn't the only life she has to take care of now. For the sake of her child, Vision's child,  _their_  child, she has to bow her head and ask, "When do I leave for this safehouse?"

"As soon as the jet is ready," Ross says, and she meets his gaze, one last decision to show that she's not afraid of him, that the only reason she's going along with his wishes is to protect her baby. "Daniels is here to escort you to the hangar. She will be leading the group of guards watching over your safehouse."

Standing and following the imposing woman out of the medical bay, Wanda closes her eyes and hopes that the other five will be alright, that their time in prison won't ruin them, that something will come through for them. She pulls her mind away from the thought of the people who will miss them, trying to remain strong in front of these people who are only treating her with more delicacy because she happens to be pregnant, but when another soldier hands her a bag of her clothes she clings to it tightly as she's ushered into a jet alone, the doors slamming closed and the engine humming beneath her.

She barely sleeps on the journey, if she even could with soldiers watching over her. Instead she thinks of Vision, probably back at the compound with Stark and Rhodey and Natasha by now, perhaps with those other members of Stark's group along with them. She hopes they're being friends to him, though perhaps her faith is misplaced with months of evidence that they all still tiptoe around Vision, treating him as the unknown quantity in their group. Cupping her hands to her stomach, she smiles softly and imagines the wonder she'll see in his eyes when she's able to tell him, the way he's looked at her for much longer that she wanted to acknowledge, really since he rescued her from the falling train in Sokovia. Feelings that have always been there, shaping into first friendship then their comparatively new closeness, that one perfect night they were never able to repeat. The night that gave her the baby.

"Ms. Maximoff." Daniels' voice is lighter than she expected to hear from the leader of a squadron of soldiers, the woman standing over her and offering a hand. "We've arrived."

The safehouse truly looks safe, a small bungalow standing alone among the greenery, the soft sounds of running water on the air and the sun shining down making it an idyllic scene. A place she would've loved to live when she was stuck living a life on the streets, never knowing where her next meal was coming from or where she would sleep that night. Realistically, a far more beautiful place to be confined than she could ever have hoped for. But now it's not what she wants - she wants to be back at the compound, curled up next to Vision.

Her one small bag of belongings seems pathetic when she sets it down in the first room she finds, even these rooms, so tiny compared to the compound, too big for just her. She's never lived alone before, without the background noise of other people's comings and goings, showers running and the hum of the coffee machine and the soft sounds of outside conversation. Being alone isn't something she's ever been good at.

"Ms. Maximoff." Another unfamiliar voice has her looking up, a woman with kind eyes and a soft smile looking over at her from the kitchen counters, her auburn curls streaked with grey and her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. "I've been anxious to meet you, my dear. I'm Emma Flack, the doctor SHIELD sent to monitor you." Moving closer, the sweetness of her smile comforting, she says, "You must be so conflicted, Ms. Maximoff. To find out that you're pregnant in a prison when you had no idea - I can't imagine how you must be feeling."

"Please, call me Wanda," she says, and Emma's smile widens, so warm and kind that she can't help feeling reassured, the guards all out of sight and only someone associated with SHIELD standing close to her, an organisation she's built a trust with as an Avenger. "So you work for SHIELD?"

"You'd be surprised how often an intelligence agency needs an obstetrician, I'm not the only one," Emma says with a slight laugh, letting Wanda smile. "People get pregnant all the time, and SHIELD likes to take care of everyone in-house. I believe you know one of my patients extremely well - I took care of Laura Barton during all three of her pregnancies."

If anything could convince her that this woman is trustworthy, knowing her connection to Clint and Laura will, and Wanda smiles genuinely at Emma. "So what was Clint like as a father-to-be?" she asks, and Emma laughs.

"He was terrible," she admits. "So nervous, particularly with Cooper. Not so bad with Lila, but then when Nathaniel came along it was in the middle of the crisis in trying to find HYDRA bases. Laura was always rolling her eyes at him." She clears her throat, and continues, "So, the soldiers at the Raft tell me that the father was a civilian, it was a one night stand and you can't remember his name?"

Glancing around for anyone nearby, Wanda murmurs, "Not precisely true." Perhaps this should remain a secret, she has no way of knowing how the relationship between SHIELD and the UN stands, but surely the doctor who will monitor the health of her baby should know the truth about the conception. "Do you have to tell the UN whatever I tell you?"

"I'm only required to tell them that you and your child are healthy and haven't tried to escape," Emma says, and Wanda looks away momentarily. "The UN won't try to violate doctor-patient confidentiality."

"I know who the father is," she says, the words pouring out of her in quick, nervous breaths. "It was only one night, but we didn't use protection. I never even  _imagined_  that we could conceive. That's why I panicked."

"Ah." Emma's response is so short that Wanda looks up at her in surprise, expecting more of a reaction. "So Vision's the father?"

Looking her in the eyes, Wanda gives a single, sharp nod, and there's no look of confusion, nothing like Clint's reaction. "I didn't want the Raft to know," she confesses quickly, and Emma just continues to gaze at her. "But I don't know if the baby might be affected by their father, or if it might make the pregnancy more complicated, I don't  _know_. I never even thought Vizh could father a child."

"It's a perfectly understandable assumption," Emma says. "But I suspect that if he was able to conceive then his... _unique_  physiology shouldn't make any different to your pregnancy. In any case, all of my equipment is already here, and I can give you an ultrasound immediately to check that everything is normal. You might already be able to hear the heartbeat."

It seems so incredible now that a mere twenty-four hours ago she had no idea she was pregnant, now watching a grainy monitor while Emma moves the ultrasound wand across her stomach. To go from believing she was simply ill with the flu, pushing through life and the suddenly terrible circumstances of her situation with stubborn ignorance of how bad she was truly feeling, to knowing she's pregnant and waiting to see the evidence of her child. But as she stares at the screen, waiting to see something, fear grips her, a terrifying thought that something might be wrong with her child, that nine weeks of no idea she was pregnant might have unforeseen consequences, that getting herself involved in the fight at the airport might have caused a problem she can't fix.

"Hmm." The soft breath of a sound makes Wanda abruptly turn her gaze to Emma, worry clawing coldly at her chest as she watches the doctor's frown staring at the screen. "Everything looks perfectly fine, Wanda. Not that this is surprising since you were a twin yourself, but I'm seeing two heartbeats. Two healthy babies."

"Oh my God." The smile that blooms bright onto her face at the thought is short-lived, when she looks up wishing that someone was at her side. Anyone to turn to and see them smile the way Clint did, someone to appreciate this moment with her. Vision with her, holding her hand, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to her temple, and she'd feel the joy radiating in a glow from his mind, truly know how thrilled he would be to see them have a family.

It takes Emma pressing a tissue into her hands for her to realise she's started to cry, and the doctor stares at her with sympathy in her soft smile. "I know it's tough to do this alone," she says, and hearing her situation spelled out so simply makes new tears prickle behind Wanda's eyes. "And I know your circumstances are less than ideal for dealing with a surprise pregnancy. I'm afraid there's not much more I can do than try to be here for you."

"No, I know, it's okay," she says, voice tremulous with emotion, wiping her tears away. "I just wish he was here. I wish I could tell him." She sets a hand on her stomach, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, and says, "I know he'd be happy."

* * *

Adjusting the bandage still guarding his sprained wrist, Tony peers downwards into the crowded hangar as the Raft opens its door for the quinjet, rain lashing at the sides of the craft and the wind whistling against the windows as he brings the jet down to land. Glancing out, he grits his teeth when he sees Ross already waiting and pauses to adjust his tie with his uninjured hand, buying himself a little time before having to deal with the Secretary of State yet again, cursing whichever recent decision made him the face of the Avengers.

When he finally slides the door open, he gives Ross the most charming smile in his arsenal in greeting. "Nice to see you, Secretary, even if it is in a place like this," he says, but Ross' solemn mask doesn't crack. "So, why am I here?"

"Though you ought to see your former teammates," Ross says, and the words worm their way into Tony's heart, painful if he dwells on them for too long. "And talk some sense into them. They refuse to listen to any UN representatives."

"Sounds about right," Tony mutters, more to himself than to Ross, and follows the guards through the blank corridors of the prison to descend through the levels and find the one where those six arrested in Leipzig currently reside, all no doubt brimming with unresolved fury.

Only five cells are occupied, all set in a circle around the edges of the room, and Tony waves off the guard that attempts to follow him inside. Barnes is the only prisoner who doesn't stand at his entrance, folded down against the screen with his back to the rest of the world. Choosing to ignore the way the unknown addition to Steve's team is glaring at him, Tony meets Steve's eyes behind the bars of his cell, a long look edged with the tension of unspoken words.

Harsh clapping breaks the silence, and Tony turns to Clint sitting in his cell, as usual hiding emotions behind sarcasm. "The futurist, gentlemen!" he shouts, like someone introducing a circus act. "He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not."

"Gimme a break, Barton," Tony says, approaching Clint's cell. "I had no idea they'd put you here."

Spitting at the floor, Clint looks at him with wounded eyes and says, "Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony."

"Yeah, somewhere, but not here!" Tony insists, despite knowing that they won't accept it, they won't understand, of course they're blaming him. "This is a place for maniacs, a place for-"

"Criminals," Clint says shortly, getting to his feet. "Criminals, Tony. I think that's the word you're looking for. It didn't used to mean me - or Sam or Steve."

"Well, you made your choice, Barton," Tony says, frustration at this entire situation dictating his words, his honest disbelief that Ross would place people he has come to know well over the years working alongside them in a prison built to contain criminals as terrible as Loki, not heroes who strayed a little way down the wrong path. "You let yourself get dragged into this."

"I made a choice to stand up against the government trying to dictate how we live our lives," Clint says, the fury beneath his voice building by the second. "You made a choice to roll over when pushed. I know you, Tony. You'll break these Accords the second you need something the UN says you can't have."

"Right now what I need is to know how you're all doing," Tony says, moving his gaze across Sam and Steve in their cells, Sam leaning on the bars and watching the proceedings and Steve standing stoic and silent as a statue. "They feed you yet today?"

"Oh, are you good cop now?" Sam asks, and Tony winces at the dark bruise covering the left side of his face. "Leave us rotting in here for two weeks before you even show your face, that's not good cop behaviour, Stark."

"Pretty massive amount of crap to work my way through before I could think about dropping by,  _Wilson_ ," Tony says, an edge to his voice. "Do you how much damage we all caused to the airport?"

"Pretty sure it was a member of  _your_  team collapsing all the towers," Sam says, arching an eyebrow, and that fact does mean Tony has to back off and acknowledge the truth of it. "Guess there are no consequences for you, though. Or Rhodey or Nat or Vision. You all get to just walk away."

"Because we all just signed the Accords instead of trying to deny that we've made a lot of very public mistakes," Tony snaps, and Sam scoffs in disbelief. "And who says there are no consequences for us? We're the ones in the public eye while this mess gets cleaned up. None of us wanted to see you all locked up."

"Oh please, you already had Wanda locked up," Clint says, and Tony rounds on him, anger surging through him. "She's just a kid, Tony. How could you do that to her?!"

"I was trying to keep the Avengers from falling apart!" Tony snaps, and Clint raises an eyebrow at him. "Anyway, where is Wanda?"

"Oh, your new best friend Secretary Ross didn't tell you?" Clint spits, pressed up as close to the bars of his cell as he can possibly be, eyes flashing with anger. "They had her transferred to some secret location, won't tell any of us where she is. They dragged her off because she's pregnant, trying to show some compassion and really just tearing her away from-"

"She's  _pregnant_?!" The exclamation silences Clint for once, but it's not one of shock, not really. He'd already put the pieces together, after all, watching the young woman run from the initial meeting about the Accords in a bout of sudden nausea and later faint, practically into Vision's arms. Still, confirmation means yet another issue to talk about with Natasha and Rhodey back at the compound. "Who's the father?"

"No way, Stark," Clint spits, and Tony rolls his eyes and reaches into the wrapping around his wrist. "You'll have to try harder than that to get information out of me, I'm a trained SHIELD field agent."

"Well, I just knocked the A outta their AV," Tony says, and the five men surrounding him in their cells all look up as an alarm sounds. "I'd say you've got around thirty seconds before they realise it's not their equipment. So cough up the secret, and I'll see what I can do to help."

"Well, settle in to not be surprised at all," Clint remarks, sarcasm laced thickly through every syllable. "Vision's the father. Wanda told me while we were driving to Germany that they slept together before the mission that went south in Lagos. The medical exam when we arrived here was how she found out, that doctor said she was nine weeks pregnant. Eleven now. How he can  _possibly_  have knocked her up, I have no idea."

"Yeah, me neither," Tony remarks, already thinking about Vision, so sad and closed off and painfully formal when forced to interact with anyone since they finally got back to the compound, even more so that he was beforehand. Trying to reconcile the brooding man he's barely seen leave his room for days with someone who's going to be a father. "Anyway, nice to see you, gentlemen, but I better be getting back to the compound and continuing to try and find and peaceful solution to all of this."

"Stark!" Clint calling his name as he makes to leave has him turning around, facing the cell as Clint leans against the bars, an unreadable look on his face "You better tell that idiot he should've used protection."

Swallowing a laugh but allowing himself an amused grin, Tony walks away, the guards accompanying him all the way back to the hangar where Ross waits. "You get anything from them?" he asks as Tony brushes past him to the jet, the engine already beginning to hum as FRIDAY primes it to fly away.

"Nope, they told me to go to hell," he says, cheerful and breezy. "I'm going back to the compound, but you can call me anytime. I'll put you on hold, I like to watch the line blink."

Only when the quinjet has risen back into the pounding rain and the Raft is fading behind him does Tony switch to auto-pilot and lean back in his chair. "FRIDAY, patch a call through to the compound."

"I thought you'd be in the Raft longer," Rhodey says when he answers, and Tony gives a soft chuckle. "So how are they getting on? Pretty mad, I'd imagine."

"Well you'd be right there," he says, and Rhodey laughs. "I need you and Nat ready for a serious talk when I get back. This is pretty big."

When he does get back to the compound, Rhodey and Natasha are already waiting in one of the smaller meeting rooms, concern painted across their faces, and Tony closes the door firmly behind them. "Where's Vision?"

"In his room, angsting, as usual," Rhodey says shortly, and guilt gnaws hotly at the back of Tony's mind yet again, guilt that he didn't piece everything together sooner and realise what it would do to Vision to part him from Wanda. "What happened at the Raft?"

"Wanda's pregnant." The truth slips from him as easily as a breath, and Rhodey and Natasha don't even appear surprised at the news. "Ross has had her transferred somewhere on her own, none of the other five know where. Vision's the father."

"Not surprising," Natasha remarks. "I saw them kissing at the airport, before she surrendered to arrest. And he couldn't be more obviously heartbroken over losing her."

"When did they even have time to sleep together?" Rhodey asks incredulously, but immediately answers his own question. "Oh, actually, you know what? The morning you left for Lagos, I caught him leaving her room at five am. Didn't even notice me, just carried on humming and grinning to himself." He leans back in his chair, eyebrows rising towards his hairline. "But still,  _pregnant_. How is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Tony admits. "But it's hard to believe she didn't already know. I mean, the second she ran out of that first meeting to throw up, I knew it."

"I remember you dealt with your share of pregnancy scares in your playboy years, Stark," Rhodey says, raising an eyebrow and grinning at him. "How many was it, nine?"

"It was  _four_ , Rhodes, don't sass me," Tony snaps, and Rhodey laughs, the mood lifting for a second. "Look, we can't tell him. He deserves to hear it from her, not secondhand from us. Let's all vow, right now, that we'll keep this a secret until we can track her down."

The solemn silence that takes hold is answer enough.

* * *

Straightening the frame containing a photograph of the picturesque Sokovian skyline long before war and Ultron tore the country apart, Vision continues to dust Wanda's ornaments, all the pieces collected from thrift stores over the past year, set out in a particular organisation that he tries to adhere to. Her belongings can't be out of place when she returns to the compound from wherever the UN has placed her for the time being. Everything has to be as she left it. Perfect. Pristine.

She'll be back soon. The air won't feel tinged with grief anymore, he won't feel hollow with the ache of missing her, and the memory of her smile won't hurt the way he imagines a wound from a knife would. She'll walk back into the compound like she never left, and he'll wrap his arms around her and kiss her and admit how he feels, the words he was never sure enough to say before, never had the bravery to let escape out into the world. Now he does, he'll tell her, and he'll hope that she returns his feelings the way she's returned his touches since their first night together.

He won't be alone with her back. Stark and Rhodes and Romanoff are undeniably their own trio, forever talking in low, urgent voices about the situation, flitting back and forth between the compound and dozens of offices scattered across the country, trying to mend the cracks in the world he was made to be a part of. He's left behind, staring at the black and white squares of the chessboard while sitting where she used to sit, sadness clinging to him like a second skin, so cloying and persistent. He can't seem to figure out how to escape from the darkness of the misery that hangs over him, not without her.

Stepping out of her room, closing the door gently behind him, he stands alone in the corridor for a moment before coming to the decision to go looking for the other three occupants of the compound. Wanda wouldn't want him to isolate himself, and in whatever changing times are to come those who signed the Accords will have to stick together as much as those who didn't. Stark, Rhodes and Romanoff are good people trying to make the best out of a bad situation. He should learn to befriend them.

He walks into the kitchen having to fight the melancholy weight of memories with Wanda, conversations where she stood so close to him and smiled and set her hand on his arms, all those tiny intimate touches that added up to their single night together. A perfect night, still haloed in his memories, something to cling to in the depths of the night when the loneliness is crushing. He knows the exact counter she perched on to kiss him during those two weeks of them completely alone in the compound, stands there now and wishes for her back.

Hearing footsteps, he feels sadness anew blossom in his chest when Stark, Rhodes and Romanoff arrive to the room together, clearly from some conversation he's been excluded from, a meeting they don't feel the need to involve him in. He feels the exclusion so deeply without Wanda's warm, familiar presence a comfort at his side, all of their moments together and the closeness of their friendship even without the new physical intimacy. She was his anchor in the world, his best friend since she first smiled at him in those long, torturous days immediately following Sokovia, and without her the cold creeps into his blood.

Trying to make everything seem normal, to hide the cracks in his psyche, he finds Stark's gaze and asks, "How was your meeting with Secretary Ross, Mr. Stark?"

"Not especially illuminating," Stark remarks, and Rhodes and Romanoff both drift away in opposite directions, Rhodes towards the offices and Romanoff downstairs to the training room. "I've never been inside the Raft. It's not the nicest place."

"They're in the Raft?!" The exclamation at this unexpected news rings through the silence, panic momentarily gripping Vision at the thought of Wanda held in a prison built for supervillains too dangerous to hold anywhere else, wrapped in chains and who knows what other restraints, her spirit held down in a tiny cell. "Are they alright? Is she hurt?"

"Steve, Sam, Clint, Barnes and that new guy are all fine, if pretty furious at me and not enjoying captivity much," Stark confides, and cold spills like ice down Vision's spine at the deliberate exemption of Wanda's name. "As for Wanda...Vision, I'm so sorry, I promise I'm going to try and help her. But her powers frighten the UN so much that they've placed her in an individual prison, outside of the Raft itself. I have no idea where she is."

The revelation sinks like a stone through Vision's mind, making his heart stop and start in jerky beats and his breath temporarily short. "Of course," he says, hearing his own voice as an echo, a dull faraway sound. "Excuse me, Mr. Stark."

He walks away, feeling Stark's gaze on him, desperately wishing she was here. But there's nothing he can do, she's locked up somewhere kept from all but those who need to know, shackled because of the fear others have of her. It's still an awful feeling that he assisted Ross in doing so, though it was in the compound, the knowledge leaving a terrible taste in his mouth - but even having her forbidden from leaving the compound is better than now having no idea where she is, if she's hurt, if she's protected, if she's  _safe_.

Does she miss him? He thinks on this as he closes the door to his room tightly behind him, lost in a maelstrom of dark emotions and darker thoughts. His hand rises to touch his cheek where she pressed her lips to his skin and left a spot of heat that still burned hours later, her voice promising that it wasn't goodbye rising from his memories. But it might be. If Stark doesn't know where she is when he's the Avenger Ross trusts the most, she might never return from wherever the UN have hidden her away. He might have lost her.

He lashes out seemingly without provocation, denting the wall with the force of the frustrated punch, one of the minimalist black and white framed picture tumbling from its hook and the glass smashing out across the floor, a jagged piece skittering away across the wood. Hearing the sounds of something breaking feels absurdly good in the moment, the anger burning in his chest easing off in its ache a little. Gripping a hefty paperweight in one hand, thick sturdy glass, he throws it and a decorative vase smashes into pieces too small to ever mend, another wave of relief washing over him.

A crash echoes through the room when he throws a chair against the wall, denting the plaster and causing the wood to break into three distinct pieces, clattering to the ground. Lashing out is so easy, everything he breaks another swell of relief, but each time the relief is less powerful, the rush briefer, he has to keep going, try harder, chase the intangible feeling that he needs. The mirror brings a particularly heady rush, cracks spreading out like webbing across the glass, pieces falling to reveal the plain wooden backing.

He stops short when he notices a flash of gold on his dresses, the slender chain of a necklace glinting among the shattered remains of a glass figurine. Taking it between his fingers, he examines the links of the chain, the small red jewel that hangs from it, remembering how dark the colour appeared against Wanda's pale skin. She wore it to the Stark Industries Christmas Gala, asked him to clasp it for her before they left, and it ended up back in his hands at the end of the night, after she fell asleep in the car on the way home due to one too many glasses of wine and he carried her to bed, watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest with her breathing with so much affection that it took his breath away. It was the first night he became aware of his feelings beyond friendship for her.

She'd know what to do, how to explain this feeling that rises in his gut like nausea to him, why he feels like both crying and screaming, why he wants to destroy the things around him to take revenge on the world for allowing him to lose her. Wrapping the chain tighter around his finger, clinging to the memory of her smile as they slow-danced in the warmth of candlelight, the lump in his throat chokes him.

The tears spill over as he sags back against the wall, sliding down the surface until he's collapsed on the floor, the sound of his sobbing filling the room as his broken heart beats hollowly in his chest.


	3. making something beautiful

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all the feedback! I hope this chapter lives up to everybody's expectations!  **Quick warning** **:** there are mentions of abortion in this chapter

* * *

"...with us today we have Director Jeffrey Mace of SHIELD, here to discuss the capture and imprisonment of former Avengers team members Captain Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton and Wanda Maximoff, along with Rogers' new allies James Buchanan Barnes and Scott Lang." The white-toothed talk show host turns the searchlight of their charming grin from the camera lens to the man sitting in the chair opposite him, fidgeting with his cufflinks and looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Director, many people across the world are praising your willingness to collaborate with the UN in order to monitor the behaviour of enhanced persons and prevent the kind of collateral damage that we have seen from the Avengers in previous years. Was this a difficult decision to make?"

"It was necessary in order to rebuild SHIELD after its collapse during the HYDRA crisis," Director Mace says, an awkwardness to his voice, words stilted and said as if reading from a script. "SHIELD as an organisation had to admit that we haven't always handled the behaviour of enhanced persons on our payroll in the way that is safest for both them and for civilians caught in the crossfire. It was simply unfortunate that it took a situation like the crisis in Lagos for us to truly put our foot on the accelerator and change the way the world we live in is ruled."

"And how did it feel, as the director of the organisation that first created the Avengers and introduced the team as we know it to the world, when you heard that certain members of the team were refusing to sign the Sokovia Accords?"

"Obviously, even when Director Fury was assessing people to join the Avengers Initiative, SHIELD as a whole was aware that the team we were putting together was a combination of people with large personalities, and it might be a difficult task to have them working together well as a team. Agent Phil Coulson's sacrifice prior to the Battle of New York brought the team together for the first time, and watching them fighting to bring down HYDRA was a privilege. But each member of that group is their own person. I do not begrudge Captain Rogers, Mr. Wilson, Mr. Barton or Ms. Maximoff their decisions not to sign the Accords, but I do believe that the decision was foolish. The only thing to be done after the fight in Leipzig was to have those four along with their allies imprisoned."

"And how do the other Avengers feel about the imprisonment of their former teammates?"

"Let me just call Tony Stark and ask him," Director Mace jokes, and the audience in the studio laughs, the sound tinny through the speakers. "I would hope that through their interactions with both SHIELD and the UN they've come to understand that it's not the refusal to sign the Accords that led to the imprisonment of their former teammates, but their actions that flagrantly flouted the terms of the Accords. It was an action that we took with reluctance, but we cannot make an exception for a lawbreaker simply because he is Steve Rogers. We are still liaising with Tony Stark as the laws of the Accords take shape in international government."

A gentle knock at his door makes Vision look away from the TV screen, all these people discussing the disaster that the Accords have become as if it doesn't matter, as if there's no emotional consequences from everything that happened. He wants to ignore whoever is outside his door, most likely summoning him to another meeting with people of great importance who will talk about the Accords and praise him for signing the document, ignorant of his silence, but another knock comes harder than before, and Stark's voice through the barrier. "So, none of us have any meetings tomorrow, and me, Nat and Rhodey are gonna order in and put on a movie," he says, and Vision turns the TV off and stares at the blank screen, the crushing weight of missing Wanda crashing in his chest once again. "Want to come join us?"

The silence holds for almost forty-four seconds before Stark speaks again. "C'mon, Vision, I need you to come break up the argument about where to order from. I've been saying all day that we should get pizza but Rhodey decided last minute that he actually wants curry and Nat is insisting that we should get Chinese. You need to tell them that pizza is clearly the superior take-away  _and_ will go best with the bottle of whiskey Rhodey found in the drinks cupboard."

This time, the silence lasts eighty-three seconds, moments that Vision watches the hand on the clock with its plastic covering cracked over his door proclaim, the ticking too loud. When Stark speaks again, his voice is gentler, the way Vision has heard people speak to wounded or terrified civilians out in the field, or the way one might coax a wild animal from a shelter. "Vision, please. We've barely seen you since the airport. We're a team too. More than that, we're friends. We want to spend time together." Another thirty second silence, and there's a soft thud as if Stark has set his hand against the door "I know how it feels to miss someone, Vision, believe me, I do. I know how much it sucks. But shutting everyone out isn't the way to cope. You'll just end up feeling worse."

Vision finally opens the door and watches Stark take a slight step back, staring at him with so much pity in his gaze that something deep in Vision's chest bristles in offense. "Rhodey's got the pick for watching tonight, which means it'll be a shitty action movie and we can make fun of the bad stunt coordination," Stark says, placating, and the sounds of the compound set in, Rhodes and Romanoff's friendly debate over food echoing in from the common area. "What do you say, Vision?"

"I say that pizza is clearly the superior take-away," Vision intones dutifully, his words ringing false, misery still a heavy aching weight in his chest.

But Stark grins broadly, gives Vision a light punch to the arm that he has come to learn is an expression of approval over the past year of watching Rogers, Rhodes, Wilson and Stark apparently threaten each other with physical violence - he can still hear the laugh Wanda initially let out when he finally became confused enough by their behaviour to ask her about it, see the wistfulness in her eyes while she talked about the friends she and her brother made on the streets and the way the men of the group would act - turns on his heel and shouts, "You hear that Rhodes?! Romanoff?! Pizza is clearly the superior take-away!"

"Whoever heard of drinking whiskey with your take-away pizza?!" Rhodes shouts back, and Stark is grinning as Vision follows him to the common area, looking at Rhodes sprawled out across the couch and Romanoff with her feet tucked neatly beneath her in the armchair. It's a familiar scene, the beginning of a night spent watching films in companionable silence, the hum of the microwave preparing the popcorn and the socked feet kicked up on the coffee table. Vision remembers the first night he came across Wanda alone in the room, drowning her grief in mindless romantic comedies while huddled beneath a blanket, her pale face turned blue by the light from the screen, and she met his eyes and beckoned him over to sit with her.

"We're not the first to do it and we won't be the last," Stark says smugly, shoving Rhodes' feet aside to sit on the couch, grabbing his laptop from the side table. "So since pizza is the superior choice tonight, I will put our order in before we break open that whiskey."

As Rhodes and Romanoff both groan and glare at Stark, Vision sits uncertainly in the second armchair, staring at the flicker of the TV screen as Rhodes browses through Netflix for something to watch. It is odd, the slow realisation that this is perhaps the first time he has ever spent in the company of this trio, though it has been almost five weeks since Leipzig. He hasn't ever truly spent time with anyone but Wanda, all those nights spent together on the couch occupied by Stark and Rhodes, the slow progress from sitting at opposite ends when the routine first began to the nights with her head on his shoulder and the blankets covering both of them and affection for her warm in his heart. She had friendships with the others, a closeness with Romanoff, with Rogers, with Barton, and though less close still a link with Rhodes and Wilson - everything he didn't have, all of his affections wrapped up in her. If she is somewhere out of reach of anyone, hidden away by the UN for arbitrary reasons of fear, he ought to try and find friendships in other places. Though no one will ever hold his heart the way she does, no matter how far away she is.

"...what do you think, Vision?" Rhodes' voice brings Vision out of his pondering, to the other three occupying the room looking expectantly at him. Adept as usual at reading social cues, Rhodes repeats, "Tony has been talking to the UN about the possibility of getting Steve, Sam, Clint and that new guy out of the Raft as long as they're closely monitored and Barnes has a psych eval and goes to a medical facility until he's adjusted to civilian life. That would probably mean the other four would move in here and the UN would send guards to monitor them."

"I'm trying to negotiate the guards out of the equation and promise the four of us can keep enough of an eye on them without the UN sticking their oar in and making everything even worse," Stark says as he sets his laptop aside. "So far the negotiations are actually going surprisingly well for it being the UN we're dealing with. Release within the next two weeks, unless anything happens to ruin the negotiations," he pauses to rap his knuckles against the wooden edge of the coffee table, "and hopefully we won't have to have a full squad of soldiers in the compound too."

Hope blooms new in Vision's chest, the back of his mind already composing another fantasy of reuniting with Wanda, telling her how he feels. "Will that also mean the UN is going to tell you where they've placed Wan- Ms. Maximoff, Mr. Stark?" he asks. "Will they release her too?"

Stark shifts in his seat, exchanges a glance with Romanoff, and after clearing his throat answers, "Well, that's a little more up in the air. The UN put Wanda out of reach and alone because they were worried about her being too powerful for even the Raft. It might be a little longer before I can get them to talk."

Something must show on Vision's face to match the way his hope fades away, back into the same misery that has clung to him since he told Wanda to leave with Barton, doubled by the knowledge that she is imprisoned somewhere alone, because Romanoff leans over and sets a gentle hand on his shoulder, her face a mask of sympathy. "We know how much you miss her," she says softly. "We really are sorry that all of this led to you losing her."

Frustration surges up in Vision's gut, Romanoff's gentle voice angering him more than it logically should, the pitying way she looks at him igniting a spark of anger somewhere in his chest, and he shrugs her off and gets to his feet. "I don't need your pity," he snaps, and looks at Stark. "I need her back."

The training room is the only place they won't bother him, no one having stepped foot in there since before Leipzig, and he locks the door behind him, setting the specifications to his usual solo routine. Not that he's trained solo often since Wanda learned to use her powers to lift herself into flight, always pulling him down with her in case she made a mistake, and he'd stand on the observation deck and watch her fighting holograms of enemies pouring from the walls, proud to see her in action, a true hero.

Her locker is untouched, the wooden plaque with her name spelt out in crooked red letters still in place, and he gravitates towards it, remembering the minutes after training sessions, her chattering nineteen to the dozen while fixing her hair and reapplying make-up and changing out of her uniform, and him sitting on the bench just listening, letting her voice wash over him as his love for her built up and up at the back of his mind. The love he now has to acknowledge is causing him more pain that he ever imagined love could.

Fighting his way through the simulation, a flood of holographic enemies easily turned to floating particles of bright blue light with blasts from the mind stone, his mind is occupied entirely by Wanda. The heavy ache of missing her. The frustration that Stark doesn't know where she is. The vindictive thought that perhaps he does, and isn't saying anything for some ridiculous, incomprehensible reason. Above all, the slightest spark of desperate hope that she'll be home soon.

* * *

Sunlight shimmers down through the leaves on the trees surrounding the bungalow, an idyllic morning scene for Wanda to sit in the midst of, fingers wrapped around a mug of earl grey tea. She's still not used to being unable to wear rings, simply for something to fidget with, but she's been sternly told of the concern that her fingers swelling could mean getting rings stuck, and isn't willing to risk it for something to fidget with while thinking. It's her clothes that are suffering, a loose thread in her shirt wrapped around one finger and the material slowly unravelling as she sips her tea and stares out at the edge of the property, the chirping of animals in the surrounding greenery and the soft sounds of running water an ambient backdrop to all the worries invading her mind.

It's her fifth week being in the safehouse, alone but for Emma and the groups of guards that surrounds the small property, serving as a painful reminder every day that her life has strayed so far from the new path she thought she was taking a little over a year ago when she officially joined SHIELD, became an Avenger and moved into her room in the compound. The room she misses so much now, aware she began to take it for granted, waking up every morning unpleasantly jolted when her surroundings are unfamiliar, the walls missing the photographs she collected together of the people and places important to her. In this safehouse, everything is neutral, without personality, a blank canvas temporarily filled by the people whose lives have fallen apart enough to bring them here.

A year ago, she thought she'd turned over a new leaf, would make a new life, grow up from the girl who lived her life on the streets and was looking only for vengeance. No longer one of dozens of children orphaned by the wars that tore Sokovia apart, but an Avenger, one of an elite, world-famous group. No longer a twin, Pietro's body brought to the US with them and buried within the grounds of the compound, his grave marked by a headstone and flowers she replaced every weekend, but someone alone for the first time, existing independent of any family. She had a stable home for the first time in nine years, people supporting her and pushing her to change for the better, and she was falling in love for the first time in her life - not that she knew that in those early days, thinking her feelings for Vision were simple lust and nothing more.

One hand still wrapped around her mug, she lowers the second to her stomach, a small but obvious bump now grown beneath her clothes, physical evidence of her pregnancy. Being able to look down and see a change in her body, one more obvious than swollen fingers or ankles, makes everything so much more real than it really felt before. It seems ridiculous that she's panicking at fourteen weeks pregnant, when finding out at nine weeks pregnant after the initial shock her first thought was that she was lucky. She  _is_  lucky, that belief hasn't changed. But the weeks alone in the bungalow, watching her body begin to change and both aware of and terrified of everything that she can't see that is completely different now, has swung her focus from the miracle of her being pregnant with Vision's children in the first place back to being scared.

It would be different if she had someone at her side. Maybe she should have insisted on staying in the Raft, or that the guard could be doubled and she could have Clint with her, someone already a parent, someone who supported his wife through pregnancy three times and would know what to do, how to cope with this feeling like she's drowning under all the decisions she suddenly has to make. As kind and understanding as Emma is, it's just not possible to talk to someone who doesn't know her, someone who can't look at her and understand who she is and what she wants. Not as frankly as she wants to, without fear of being judged.

More than anything, she wants Vision. The initial sharp pain of missing him has dulled to a near-constant ache in the intervening weeks, a hollowness in her chest that used to be filled by his shy smiles and his gentleness whenever he touched her. She wants the father of her children next to her, wants to be able to turn to him and talk everything out with him. He was her rock through her months of mourning Pietro, every time she fell back into despair or lashed out in anger at the unfairness of a world that could take her brother away from her, calmly coping with her tears and tolerating the sharpness of her tongue and staying at her side after the nightmares that left her waking up screaming and drenched in the cold sweat of dread. He would know what to do, how to help her, staying at her side through everything even with no words to say, listen to her and give her that same soft smile that has always been reassuring since the first time she saw it.

But alone as she is, only the summer breeze for company, her thoughts turn dark so easily, to dread and fear and guilt. To the possibility that Vision won't be happy that she's pregnant, that she doesn't know him as well as she thinks she does, that he doesn't want and perhaps will never want a family. They never talked about it, her always too shy to bring it up because it would mean admitting to her feelings for him, that whenever she thought about becoming a mother one day it was him she pictured at her side. Maybe Vision is content as he is, an Avenger and a hero and unburdened by family obligations. They slept together, but he never asked for commitment or suggested he wanted it. Maybe he doesn't want to be tied down. Maybe he doesn't love her. Maybe when he finds out that their one night together ended with her pregnant he'll turn and run and leave her to raise their children alone.

It would be easy for him, to refuse to take responsibility, turn away from her no matter how she feels about him. Loving him doesn't mean that he loves her back, that's why she kept everything to herself for so long, too scared of rejection to say anything. Looking back on their night together, a blush heating her face at the memory of his hands on her body and the sound of him groaning her name, she remembers how gentle he was, touching her so reverently and pausing with every tiny step towards more to check she was okay - so often it became frustrating. But Vision is always gentle, scared to harm anything in the world he sees so much beauty in, one night of sex can't make her sure that he feels for her even half as much as she does for him. He was so attentive to her in their weeks alone, taking care of her, but he's always taken care of her. She looks back on every kiss, counts those bright shining moments in her memory, but the answer still isn't there.

Fear grips her at the thought that he won't want any of this, panic churning in her stomach. Even she never thought of becoming a mother until she started spending time with Clint's children, the far-away thought of family awoken by seeing them smile and laugh and put their trust in her. But that was always a daydream set far in the future, after she made a new life for herself and someone at her side, not something she imagined happening by accident, unplanned and unexpected. She can't ask Vision to immediately be happy about becoming a father, can't even begin to expect him to be enthusiastic, not when everything about their situation is something she never entertained the potential for until it happened.

Beyond worrying about whether Vision will be happy to find her pregnant, whether he'll want to be a father, is the constant niggling concern about whether she'll be a good mother. Her memories of her own mother fade more with every passing day, the sound of her voice fading away across ten years since her death, but they're happy memories as far as she can recall. She's in a situation now not dissimilar to her mother's, unexpectedly pregnant with twins - but her parents were already married before expecting, after a whirlwind romance in a country teetering on the brink of war. In her years of living on the streets, the people around her constantly changing as people found work, found homes, fled the country, or fell to other, darker, sadder fates, she remembers the constant fear among the women older than her about falling pregnant, the terror in their words when they'd talk in hushed voices about being careful, using protection, avoiding becoming homeless unwed mothers.

She never thought she'd ever be in the situation that scared them so much, but now she is. Through her own stupidity, assuming that Vision wouldn't be able to have children despite there being no conclusive test results to prove it, she's caught herself in a situation that scares her, staring fast-approaching motherhood in the face without any idea of how to give her children what they need. If Vision turns his back on her, she's facing bringing up twins alone in an unfamiliar country, and the questions just keep piling up. Will the UN keep her in this safehouse until the birth and beyond? Will she be raising her children in captivity? Will her teammates who signed the Accords ever know where she is?

Maybe Vision will never know that he's going to be a father. Maybe he'll live his life completely separate from hers, unaware that he has children out in the world. Unaware of how much she loves him.

The thought of it breaks her heart.

* * *

"...and as the former Avengers and their associates head home after seven weeks imprisonment in the Raft prison, there is one question weighing on the minds of those engaged in this debate since the very beginning - will Captain Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton and Scott Lang now be prepared to sign the Sokovia Accords? With James Buchanan Barnes, the alleged cause of the highly public falling out between former teammates Rogers and Tony Stark, sent to a facility to help him adjust to civilian life as part of this deal, will the team be able to reunite under the terms of the Accords and work together as they did before? We have a group of experts here to weigh in..."

A knock on the door, and Rhodes peer into Vision's room, brow furrowing when he notices the same talk show that has been making light of their situation for weeks playing on the TV screen. "Ross just called through, the other four will be here in the next twenty minutes," he says, and Vision looks away, fighting back another wave of misery at the thought that there are only four returning to the compound, Wanda not among them. "Tony wants us all to stick together, make it clear what we all want out of this arrangement."

Turning off the TV, sending the white teeth and smug expressions of the so-called experts called in to talk about the ten weeks since Ross first brought the Accords to the attention of the world as if it was nothing more than words typed on paper, not a document that turned his life to one he never wanted to live, Vision stands and follows Rhodes to the kitchen. Stark and Romanoff are already waiting, Stark's knuckles white he's clutching his cup of coffee so tightly, Romanoff's face determinedly expressionless. Rhodes turns immediately to the coffee machine, tossing the grounds away, and Stark lets out a long sigh and gives Vision a tight smile. "So, as soon as these four are in this compound they're not allowed to leave unless escorted by one of us," he says, information Vision already knows, a clear attempt to fill the silence. "Barnes has already taken the psych eval, they're going to get him settled and keep me updated."

"UN soldiers looking for permission to open the gates, boss." FRIDAY's voice blares out through the compound, and Vision turns away as Stark gives permission, drains the rest of his coffee and straightens his clothes, the atmosphere taking on a frosty professionalism that he's never known the compound to have. It's always been a home first for him, not just the place where he works, but a place of evenings filled with companionable chatter and laughter and quiet nights spent talking in low voices warm with affection.

Even knowing that Wanda isn't coming back, that she's still trapped somewhere because the UN find her powers so terrifying they refuse to look past their fear to the woman who is so much more than scarlet mists, Vision can't help but hope that something has changed in the last few days of the negotiation. That she'll walk through that door, he'll see her smile, be able to pull her into his arms and never let her go again.

But, of course, she doesn't. And despite knowing it was coming, that his hopes were already shattered to pieces, the disappointment still hurts. The silence that persists between the separated factions of the fight that feels like it was both an hour and so many years ago clings on in the passing minutes, until Stark clears his throat and asks, "When was the last time you were here, huh, Barton?"

"Getting Wanda out of the prison you put her in. Just as well you let her go to a worse one," Clint snaps, and storms away, but not without pausing to glare at Vision, making him both bristle with anger and collapse into sadness at the memory of sending Wanda away. If he'd only known, he would've clung to her, kept her at his side and protected her from the world they were both made to be part of, slowly collapsing in on itself.

Rogers leaves the room without so much as a word, eyes dark with anger, and leaves behind Wilson and Scott Lang, someone Vision only recognises from the profiles that have been flashing over every channel since Leipzig. "Nice to see you guys again," Wilson finally says, giving a weak smile that does something to chip away some of the tension that clings to this group, once friends. "Glad you got us outta the Raft, Stark, those guards were something else."

"Well, I couldn't just leave you all in there," Stark says, and Wilson arches an eyebrow. "C'mon, Wilson, you really think that little of me? Ross never said in any of our talks that you'd all get shoved in the Raft for what you did. That wasn't fair."

"I can't believe this is my life." These words, every syllable tinged with wonder, come from Lang, looking around the room with a child-like joy in his eyes. "I'm actually inside the Avengers compound! I mean, I've been here before, but never inside! Never when I was supposed to be!"

"Well, I'm glad someone's happy to be here," Rhodes observes with a slight chuckle, and Lang beams at him. "Scott Lang, I'm sure you know them, but since you'll be living with us for the foreseeable future I guess we should formally introduce everyone outside of our codenames. I'm James Rhodes, but everyone around here calls me Rhodey. That's Natasha, do not get on her bad side. And this is Vision."

Lang stares at Vision for a long moment of silence, just enough to make him begin to feel uncomfortable, then says, "I'm really sorry about what you're going through. Really, I can't even begin to imagine it."

"Thank you?" Vision's voice naturally pitches upwards in a question, the way Lang is looking at him so sympathetic and saddened, a look he doesn't see on anyone's face but Wanda's when it comes to him. He doesn't understand why he's being looked at that way now.

"It must be awful, to be separated at a time like this," Lang continues, and Vision just stares. "I'd hate to miss someone through that. Wanda seems lovely."

"She is," Vision says quietly. "But I understand you've left many more people behind than I have, Mr. Lang. The sympathy should be for you."

Lang continues to gaze sadly at him for a long moment, then continues, "No, Vision, we should all feel awful for you. None of us realised until it was too late, we didn't realise what we were taking away from you, you should've been there to see-"

"Okay, Tic Tac, I think you need the tour," Wilson cuts in, and takes Lang by the arm and pulls him from the room

When the door swings shut behind the two men, Rhodes lets out a long, loud sigh. "That was actually about fourteen percent less awkward than I thought it would be!" he says cheerfully. "Although nice going with getting Clint all pissy at us, Tony. Good job sticking your foot directly in your mouth."

"He's taking all this Wanda stuff way too hard, I think he forgets she's not actually his daughter," Romanoff observes, Stark and Rhodes both chuckling, and Vision starts when she puts a hand gently on his shoulder and squeezes, a comforting touch he hasn't felt since he let Wanda go.

"What do you suppose Mr. Lang meant when he said everyone should feel awful for me?" he asks, and looks around at the impassive faces of his teammates. "How do they know how I feel for Wanda?"

"People saw you two at the airport, you know," Romanoff says gently, and he turns his gaze away from hers bashfully. "Don't worry about it too much, Vision. Scott is just overwhelmed by all of this, he's never seen anything on this scale before."

"And don't worry about Wanda," Stark says, serious as he pulls his phone from his pocket, frowning at the screen. "I swear, I am  _this close_  to getting Ross to tell me where she is. And when he does, I promise you'll be the first to know."

"She probably misses you as much as you miss her," Rhodes says, and Vision clings to that thought. It cushions him through helping Wilson cook for the eight occupants of the compound, handing him ingredients and tolerating his jokes and trying to ignore the cracks in the once fond and friendly dynamic. Through the long night, he thinks only about Wanda missing him, reuniting with her, and the possibility of a kiss that could start the rest of his life.

* * *

She awakes with a jolt, drenched in the cold sweat of fear, the dream memory of Vision's eyes cold and unfeeling even when she pleaded with him to stay lingering at the forefront of her mind. Pushing herself upright, kicking the pillow balanced beneath her bump away, she runs a hand over her belly, pulling her thoughts away from darkness and worry, instead thinking about her children. Slowly, so slowly, her breathing slows and her heart rate returns to normal, and she can swing her legs out of bed and stand up.

Emma has left her usual morning mug of tea waiting for her, and Wanda smiles softly to herself at the connection she's managed to find with her doctor. She's been the one person she can turn to for support, ask her to request more clothes every time she spends an hour close to frustrated tears when nothing fits her rapidly changing body and ask her for help with the simple every day tasks that seem to get harder and harder with every day she progresses through her pregnancy. If she can't have Vision with her, or Clint, or Natasha, or Steve or any of the people she's made connections with over the past year - even having Tony would be better than the isolation - then Emma is perhaps the best she can hope for.

Summer has reached its peak outside, the sun beating down from the moment she opens the door to step out onto the deck and embrace the warmth, but there is a breeze, snatching at her hair and her dress, flattening the material against her bump. For a moment, looking out at the bright greenery, she can imagine children's laughter on the air, and cups a hand to her belly with a slight smile. Not that that's what she wants. She's still clinging to the hope that she'll be released, allowed to return to the compound, and have the team to support her, help her build a life that children will become part of, and she'll see Vision's smile again.

"Ms. Maximoff?" She looks over at the woman who spoke, one the members of the squadron of guards assigned to the boundaries of the safehouse, who looks up at her with worry behind her eyes, and swallows before saying in a rush, "I think it's really brave, what you're doing. Keeping the babies, I mean. Anyone else in your position might not."

Staring down at the woman, who can't be much older than her, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and eyes softened with sympathy, Wanda simply says, "Thank you. I'm sorry, I can't remember your name."

"That's okay, Ms. Maximoff, you had other, much bigger things on your mind when we first arrived here," she says cheerfully, apparently taking Wanda's response as an invitation to sit down with her at the table, an eager smile on her face. "I'm Rachel. Rachel Peterson. I used to be under Anderson's command at the Raft, but because I was the one who told Ross when Doctor Wells found out you were pregnant Daniels requested that I be part of the guard." She takes a long breath, and asks, "So what was the father like?"

"Excuse me?!"

"Oh, I didn't mean to offend you, Ms. Maximoff, it's just that there are whispers that Tony Stark is trying to get the UN to release you since they've released Captain Rogers and all his other allies, and when the world knows you're pregnant everyone will be asking about the father, and I just want to be one of the first to know! How did you meet?! What was he like?!"

Blinking at Rachel as she finishes speaking in a rush, still processing that Ross has let the rest go, Wanda cups a hand to her bump and smiles softly, unable to help it at the thought of Vision. "Their father is the best person I've ever met," she says softly, almost to herself. "He saved me." But Rachel's sweet sigh pulls her back to reality, the fact that she is telling a soldier under Ross' command truths that don't match with the lie that the father was a civilian and a one night stand, and she clears her throat and adds, "Of course, we didn't know each other very well. He probably wouldn't have turned out the nicest if he knew about the babies."

"Are you kidding?!" Rachel exclaims. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled! Everyone will be talking about him - the man who captured the Scarlet Witch's heart."

"It was only one night," Wanda says, but Rachel shakes her head.

"You look like someone pining over loving someone and not being able to be with them," she says, and a blush flares up in Wanda's cheeks at how easily people see through what she tries to project, how obvious her love for Vision must be. "I hope that you can get back to the real world and tell him. About the babies, and about how you feel."

"I wouldn't have to tell him now," Wanda says ruefully, rubbing her belly. "No one could even glance at me without knowing I'm pregnant."

"It suits you," Rachel says, and Wanda flushes again. "You look like you're actually happy to be pregnant." Her smile fades away, the sparkle in her eyes dimming, and she hesitantly says, "I'm twenty-four. I was only your age when I got pregnant."

"You have a child?" Wanda asks, eagerness rising in her chest, someone she can talk to, ask about motherhood and reconciling who she was before with being a mother.

Rachel bites her lip and shakes her head. "I had an abortion," she says quietly, and Wanda determinedly swallows her shocked exclamation. "I was in the SHIELD Academy, classes were going well, I had my sights set on being a soldier. I wasn't ready to be a mom. My boyfriend agreed with me that it was for the best - but we're not together anymore. It took more of a toll on our relationship than we thought it would." She looks up, and a jolt of sympathy runs through Wanda to see the sheen of tears in her eyes. "So I think you're really brave. For deciding you're ready, even though your circumstances  _suck_. Going through with a pregnancy takes a lot of strength."

"Bravery is knowing what's right for you, in that moment," Wanda says, the urge to comfort Rachel overwhelming. Maybe it's the beginnings of her maternal instinct. "You were brave too. Deciding you're not ready is just as difficult as deciding you are." Glancing down at the swell of her stomach, she says, "Abortion wasn't legal back in Sokovia. If you got pregnant, you were having the baby whether you wanted it or not. Too many children ended up unwanted on the streets."

Rachel reaches across the table first, gripping Wanda's hand in hers. "Well, you're an Avenger, and if you'd wanted an abortion it wouldn't have been hard to get one," she says, and the thought is jarring. "But you're keeping your children. Even though it was only one night." She blinks, swallows, and says, "They're gonna be really lucky to have a mom like you."

When Wanda next blinks, tears streak hot down her cheeks, and Rachel winces. "No one's said that yet," Wanda murmurs, dabbing at her wet eyes. "I'm scared. I was an Avenger for a year. I lived on the streets for half my life. I nearly died so many times. But the fact that I'm going to be a mother is the scariest thing I've ever had to face."

"Everyone feels that way," comes Emma's voice, and Wanda sniffs hard and attempts to swallow her sobs when she glances up to find her doctor waiting in the doorway, a soft sympathetic smile on her face. "When I had my son, I was terrified. While I was looking after Laura, she was terrified - with every pregnancy, not just the first one. But when you hold your child for the first time, everything changes. Things just...fall into place." She looks dreamily into the distance for a moment, before blinking and returning to business-like tones. "Speaking of which, Wanda, I have all the equipment set up for an ultrasound. If the babies are in the right position, I might be able to tell you their gender."

Standing up, brushing the last of her tears from her cheeks, Wanda gives a smile to Rachel, who grins back. "What are you hoping for?" she asks brightly. "Boys? Girls? One of each?"

"One of each would be nice," Wanda muses, and Rachel nods and smiles. "But I've never put a lot of stock in the thought that every mother needs a daughter. Maybe having just boys would be nice. People say they're easier babies. With two of them, I'll need things to be as easy as possible!"

"I'll keep my fingers crossed for you!" Rachel says, and Wanda can't help a grin at her enthusiasm, even the mere fact that she took the time to reach out to someone who is essentially her prisoner.

The ultrasound process is familiar by now, and Emma chatters as she works, usually just making small talk and telling stories about the SHIELD agents and their partners she's looked after over the years. "So, I'm hearing rumours that you're going to be released," she says. "What's the first thing you'll do when you can leave?"

Unable to touch her bump without getting the gel on her hands, Wanda simply smiles softly and says, "Tell Vizh. Find him, and tell him he's going to be a father. I want him to know."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Emma says reassuringly. "I was there when Clint found out Laura was pregnant with Cooper. He'd been away for four months, chasing the Black Widow down, and by the time he made it back she was showing. Fury must've only debriefed him enough to tell him Laura was with the doctor, because he came bursting in to find her. And - don't tell him I told you this - he broke down." Wanda laughs, and Emma smiles and continues, "Just burst into tears, sobbing while Laura was trying to comfort him and not laugh. He was so happy, and that's just how he decided to express himself."

While Emma looks at the ultrasound monitor, frowning at the grainy image, Wanda thinks about telling Vision, how she'll do it. Of course, she won't have the luxury of building to the confession - as soon as he sees her, he'll know. But she can tell him how she found out, how happy she was to know that she was having his children, how much she truly believes she's lucky, that it's a miracle. They can plan, she'll know where she stands with him, if he wants them to be together and have this family. That's what she wants - a family. With Vision.

"Do you definitely want to know the sex, Wanda?" Emma asks, pulling Wanda out of her thoughts and back to looking at the grainy image of her children. She nods eagerly, and Emma smiles. "Okay. So, this one," she points to one of the images, now visibly the shape of a baby, moving slightly, "is a boy. And the second one is also a boy." She turns back to Wanda, beaming, already handing her a tissue for the tears springing to her eyes. "Two sons. Congratulations, Wanda."

"Thank you," Wanda says through a high-pitched sob that escapes her, clutching the tissue to her face as she realises she's trembling. "It's real, isn't it? They're my boys." No longer worried about getting gel on her hands, she presses a hand to her bump, and puts everything she has behind the words as she whispers, "I love you."

A flicker, so fast she's not sure if she actually imagined it. But it comes again, stronger, for a longer moment, and she breathes out in a shuddery rush as two new minds press tentatively against hers, presences so small and quiet she's not sure if they're even aware they're doing it. The minds of her sons, so new and unaware of any darkness in the world, and filled with the purest love she's ever seen. Love for her.

If she wasn't sure before, she is now. The fear is still there, but she can control it. Her life is her own, and it's a life she wants to spend taking care of her family, her children, her sons whose minds she can feel with her own, not capable of complex thought but capable of feeling. Feeling their love for her, the unwavering, unquestionable trust, how beautiful their minds are in their innocence, her tears are born only of joy, and she truly feels like a mother.

* * *

Running a fingertip over the fine details of the chess piece, smiling when he finds the chip caused by Wanda tipping the board over one night when he managed to put her in a check in two moves, Vision looks up when the door swings open and Barton walks in, stopping still when he sees Vision. "Hey," he says stiffly, and Vision nods coolly at him. "I was just looking for Nat. You haven't seen her, have you?"

"Ms. Romanoff is at the SHIELD offices for a meeting with Director Mace, she won't be back until late afternoon at the earliest," Vision says, and Barton's face falls. "Perhaps I can be of assistance?"

Barton's mouth goes to the thinnest line, his eyes cold, and there's a sneer twisting his lips when he says, "I doubt  _you_  could help me with anything, Vision. Go back to your game. Forget I was here. I'll go talk to Rhodey."

"What is your  _problem_  with me, Clint?!" The words are born of months of frustration building up in the back of his mind, rushing out of him in a tone dangerously edged with irritation. "What have I ever done to justify the way you treat me?!"

Rounding on him, a scowl already in place, Barton snaps, "Oh, I don't know. What do you think you've done to justify the way I treat you, Vision? You have access to all the knowledge in the world - amaze me!"

"It seems to me that you believe my friendship with Wanda is reason to treat me the way you do!" Vision snaps, and Barton arches an eyebrow at him. "You do realise, Clint, that she was the one who first wanted to be friends with me? She asked me to share in her grieving and be there for her, and everything simply grew from there." His voice cracks, just a little, as he says, "She's my best friend. And I'm hers."

"Then why did you help Tony imprison her here?!" Barton snaps, and anger surges forth to replace any sadness. "You were guarding her, not letting her go outside, keeping her locked up because the world thinks she's something to be scared of. How can you say she's your best friend and still have done that to her?"

"I've never tried to deny that I shouldn't have done it!" Vision says, though his voice is growing louder and louder to a volume that is probably better called shouting. "Wanda forgave me - why can't you?!"

"Because you're sitting in here, in the dark, by yourself, acting like some kind of martyr!" Barton shouts, gesturing wildly as he speaks, as if he can't contain his rage to mere words. "What right do you have to be so miserable? You let her go!"

"I had to!" Vision shouts. "The second you showed up here, you marked her as an enemy of the UN. I thought letting her go with you was her best chance!" His lips curls in anger and he scoffs, "Clearly, I was wrong about that."

"Maybe if your buddy Stark hadn't shown up at the airport, everything would've been fine!" Barton crosses the room in quick steps, leading Vision to realising he's suddenly standing, and his breathing is heavy with the adrenaline of the fighting. "Her best chance was to go with me!"

"How can you say that, Clint? How can you  _possibly_  think that leaving a safe place where she was happy with me was the best chance for her? Now no one knows where she is, she's out there alone after everything, she was ill and you and the rest of your little  _team_  got her arrested!"

"You think I don't feel guilty about that? You think we don't  _all_  feel guilty about that? Have you even spoken to anyone, Vision? Couldn't you stop all your pathetic moping for long enough to realise that Steve's barely spoken since we got dropped off here because he feels so guilty?" Barton's eyes flash with anger, his hatred obvious in the curl of his lip, as he shouts, "I care so much about her! She's like family to me! I love her!"

"So do I! I love her! I love Wanda!" Barton's mouth is open not to begin shouting again, but in shock, and the last of the angry fire in Vision's veins sparks out, and melancholy overwhelms him, thick in his throat, choking him, making the words hard to grit out as he clenches his hands into fist, trying not to break down. Not in front of Clint. Not in front of anyone. "Every time I see her...every time I  _think_  of her, my heart, it...my  _heart_ ," his voice breaks, tears burning behind his eyes, but the words don't stop pouring out of him, all the things he wants to tell Wanda but might never have the chance to. "I feel  _alive_  with her, I feel so alive that it hurts, she makes me feel so  _human_. All I ever want is to be with her, I just want to be around her, I want my whole life to feel the way I do when I'm with her, and now she's gone, I..."

He's crying, tears streaking hot down his cheeks, and tries to hide his face in his hands, not wanting anyone to see the cracks, wanting to keep up the impression that losing Wanda didn't break his life into pieces of what it was before. "I can't  _bear_  it," he says, so much softer than his shouting moments before, not daring to look up and see Barton's reaction. "My life is with her, my happiness is with her, and without her, I feel...I just feel like there's no happiness for me anymore. I  _miss_  her. I miss her so much that every moment I'm awake is another heartbreak, being without her. All I want is to see her smile and hear her voice." Looking up, finding Barton still staring at him, he wipes his tears away and fixes him with a glare as he says, "Do you still think you're the only one who wants her back, Clint?"

"Jesus, Vision." Barton's voice is much softer now, barely more than a breath, and when Vision looks up at him through the sheen of tears in his eyes he's sitting down in the armchair, simply staring. "You know you're crying, right?"

"Yes, Clint, I was aware," Vision snaps, and Barton watches him dab at his eyes and face with the edge of his sleeve, sniffing hard to try and stop himself from letting more tears fall.

"I didn't know you felt that way," Barton says, and Vision shoots him a withering look. "Hand on heart, I swear I didn't. I figured it was just a crush." He waits while Vision sits back on the couch, staring at the chessboard and trying not to cry, and then clears his throat and says, "There's something you should know. About Wanda."

"What is it?" Vision's heartbeat immediately picks up speed, panic gripping at his throat, his head spinning with everything that could be wrong, everything that could've happened to Wanda in a place no one knows. "Is she alright?"

Barton has never looked so deadly serious, an assassin's expression furrowing his brow and setting his mouth in a hard line, as he swallows and finally breaks the silence. "Vision, Wanda is-"

"Vision, there you are, I've been looking everywhere!" Stark's voice has Barton hastily snapping his mouth shut, as Stark comes storming into the room with a piece of paper in hand and a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Sam said he thought you were training but Scott swore he'd seen you go into the library then for some reason Rhodey was convinced you'd headed out to the hangar - anyway, that's not important! What  _is_  important is  _this_!"

He sets the paper on the coffee table in front of Vision, a few lines of an address scrawled in his spidery handwriting, and Vision hesitates to even touch it, blinking hard to make sure it isn't a mirage, or the desperate daydream of a mind ruined by weeks of misery and loneliness. "Mr. Stark...is this-"

"The address of the safehouse the UN placed Wanda in ten weeks ago that Ross finally coughed up, yes," Stark says, and grins smugly. "I knew being disgustingly pandering to him would work eventually."

"And does Ross know you wrote the address down?" Barton asks, his voice taking on that usual quality of barely concealed contempt. "I'd hate to see you betray someone else's trust, Stark."

Their bickering fades into nothing more than background noise, as Vision reaches out to take the paper, reading the address over and over again, clutching the tiny scrap so tightly to hide that his hands are trembling. The memory of her last goodbye rises from the back of his mind with barely a call for it, a kiss brushed to his cheek and her soft smile and her promise. Ten weeks without her, and now she's tantalisingly within reach. "When do we leave, Mr. Stark?" he asks, interrupting the argument, and Stark looks at him.

"You can leave whenever you want, Vision," he says, and Vision can't help the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth, simply thinking of seeing Wanda again, at long last. "Ross let me have the address, she is officially no longer a prisoner of the UN. I figured you'd want to be the one to go and tell her the news."

Clutching the paper to his chest so it crumples, tears unexpectedly stinging behind his eyes in response to the joy that surges through him, comparable to that he felt that first time he kissed her, Vision can only say, "Thank you." It's not enough to express the depth of his gratitude, but Stark nods understandingly, giving him a slight smile as he rises from the couch, mind already far away from this room and the whole compound, daydreaming of her smile.

"Vision?" He turns back from the door to find Stark looking at him, taking a deep breath before he continues, "Tell her how you feel. Don't keep it in any longer."

"I won't," Vision says, and the promise is as much to himself as it is to Stark. He won't keep his feelings locked inside his mind anymore, taking all the exquisite agony of being in love as a burden for him alone to bear. He's going to see Wanda again, hold her close and kiss her lips, look into her eyes so she can see the truth that every fibre of his being knows when he tells her he loves her. Has always loved her.

Walking out of the room, phasing through the floors and walls to the hangar to take one of the cars for himself, he leaves Tony and Clint behind, staring at each other with challenge clear in their gazes. Tony breaks the silence first, arching an eyebrow at Clint and gruffly asking, "Did you tell him?"

Clint glares for a long moment, but finally concedes, "I was about to when you interrupted."

" _Barton_! We said we were going to keep it a secret." Tony glares for a moment longer, then softens, aware that soon the petty disagreements between the team will be swept aside to make way for supporting Wanda and Vision through the rest of her pregnancy. "Imagine how you would've felt if someone had told you the first time your wife was pregnant before you could find out from her."

"It's for her sake, not his," Clint says defiantly, crossing his arms sulkily. "She's crazy about him, all of her excitement when she found out was about it being their baby, not just hers. She was so excited to have a family with him - what if he doesn't want that? She'll be completely crushed!"

"Okay, Barton, I know you have this weird personal vendetta against Vision for daring to look at Wanda as a potential romantic and sexual partner," Tony says, and Clint's frown deepens at the mention of sex, "but you're observant. You can't possibly think that Vision doesn't feel the same. And, however this happened and however shocked he is at first, he'll be delighted that Wanda's pregnant with his baby."

"You better be right, Stark," Clint says, eyes darkening with brooding thought. "Because there'll be a lot of pieces to pick up if you're not."

* * *

The safehouse Vision pulls the car to a halt outside is so perfectly picturesque, a bungalow nestled amongst greenery that seems to glow with life in the sunlight, that for a moment he wonders if there's been some kind of mistake. But the next minute he sees a soldier walking towards him from the gated entrance to the property, a woman with a gaze so severe he shrinks back a little. "You must be here to tell Ms. Maximoff the news," she says, and he nods wordlessly. "I'm Daniels, I've been leading the soldiers assigned to guard her here for the last ten weeks. You can tell her that she'll be allowed to leave, and you'll have the night to pack before you need to be out by tomorrow morning."

"Of course," Vision says, reeling at the thought that they'll have even a night to themselves in this perfect place. Perhaps it'll be just like their first night together, reunited at long last, and they'll sink into each other and the hours will disappear in whispered words and touches that linger for so long even after hands have moved away.

Nerves churn through him as he approaches the door, his mind twisting up into a dozen scenarios. What is she doesn't want to see him? What if she gets angry? What if she forces him away and wants someone else to be sent to take her home?

But rationality kicks in. She doesn't hate him. They're best friends, that much he's heard from her words, and she'll want to go home with him. Forgiveness already happened for them, and it's been such an awful time for him that if she's felt even half of what he has he'll be able to pull her into his arms without a single protest, knowing that she wants to be back with him as much as he does with her.

Opening the door into the bungalow, he looks around the place, and a warm swell of affection fills him when he sees Wanda's shoes neatly lined up by the door, familiar. "Wanda?" he calls out, into the depths of the rooms he can't see, and hears footsteps. "Wanda, it's me."

The door at the end of the hallway opens, and his heart stops when Wanda emerges, dark hair loose over her shoulders, and her hand flies to her mouth, her eyes glittering with joy. "Vizh," she breathes, and hearing her voice again makes his breath stutter, and he almost stumbles sideways with the way the feeling rushes out of his legs, steadying himself on the wall. "You're  _here_."

At first, he loses himself in simply seeing her again, ten weeks apart resigned to mere miserable memory as he watches her eyes light up and a smile grow on her face, a pleased flush stealing into her cheeks, and the few steps she takes towards him before she pauses, and nervousness casts a shadow over her joy. He notes the uncharacteristic lack of rings on the hand she drags through her hair, her gaze darting away from his and back several times in a row, her smile dropping away into a tense line as she bites nervously at her bottom lip. But the bright pops of red in the otherwise monochromatic floral pattern of her dress catch the eye, pull his gaze away from the familiar beauty of her face, somehow even more jolting in person than the memories he's clung to for their weeks apart, and his eyes fall to the curve of her stomach, the fabric clinging to an obvious bump beneath her clothes, and shock crashes over him like cold water.

"Wanda," he breathes, so faintly, but the word is so loud in the silence, seeming to echo through the moments that swell with everything unsaid. She moves closer, crossing the room until she's but a few steps away from him, and still he can't drag his gaze away from her belly, staring as every part of his mind tries to process what is happening before his eyes, tries to make sense of what he sees.

"Nineteen weeks," she says, breaking the silence, and sets a hand over her belly with a soft smile, his gaze following the movement of her thumb as she caresses the top curve. "That's what you want to know, right? I'm nineteen weeks pregnant. Almost halfway through." She moves closer still, and he drags his gaze to her face, her eyes so soft and her smile so genuine. "It's twins. Twin boys." He starts violently when she twines her fingers through his, pulling him closer, and sets his hands gently on her bump, her skin warm beneath his touch, and he stares at his own fingers moving over the stretched skin, pulling the fabric of her dress taut over her surprisingly firm stomach. She cups a hand to his cheek, and he looks up to see her eyes shimmering with tears above her bright smile, and the world seems to stop when she breathes, " _Our_  boys."

His hands snap back from her bump as if burned, his head spinning, everything so overwhelming, and when he speaks at last it's in a single strangled syllable. " _Mine_?"

She blinks and her tears spill over, streaking silver down her cheeks, but still she smiles, reaches up with her other hand to cup his face with both as she says, "Of course yours. There's never been anyone else. They're our sons, Vizh." Her thumb caresses his cheek, her smile sweeter than he's ever seen, and she softly says, "You're going to be a father."

He isn't aware that he's started to cry until he feels the tears hot on his skin, and Wanda looks distressed, trying to brush them away faster than they fall, and he takes her hands in his, his grip tight enough that it might hurt her. But she doesn't attempt to pull away or give any sign that it does, gazing up at him with new tears blooming in her eyes, and the lump in his throat renders him speechless. Reeling with this revelation, he drops his head to kiss her, and she sets his hands on her waist before she wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him back in a way that thrills him as much as it did the first time he pressed his lips to hers. Her lips part against his, he can feel how much she's trembling in his arms, and her face wet with tears that start to fall anew.

Taking a brief moment to catch his breath, he kisses her again with the pent-up passion of ten weeks apart, sliding his arms around her to pull her closer. Her bump pressing into him is a stark reminder, and he pulls away, breathing heavier than it was before, and watches her eyes flutter open, her gaze follow his hand running over her bump. His head is still spinning, but feeling the warmth of her skin even through her clothes makes everything more solid, more real, what she says settling into his mind as truth. She's pregnant. And the two boys still growing inside her are his children too.

"I love you."

His words resound in the silence, fallen from his lips seemingly without provocation, instantly regretted. Wanda gazes at him in silence, her expression unreadable, and he hastens to add, "You are of course under no obligation to return my feelings, Wanda. I'm so sorry, I meant to build up to this explanation over more time, I'm just a little overwhelmed. It doesn't matter if you don't feel the same way, I only want you to be happy, and if your happiness doesn't lie with me then I accept that. If you would be happier without having me involved in the raising of your children, that is fine. Or perhaps we could raise them as simply friends, there is of course no need for children to grow up with their parents romantically involved, not if that wouldn't make you happy, I only want-"

Wanda's mouth on his silences him, the worry twisting in his chest melting away as all his focus returns to the softness of her lips and her fingers curved over the back of his neck. "I love you too," she says when she breaks away, a slight giggle bubbling out of her when he instinctively chases her lips, eagerness for another kiss dictating his movements.

"Really?!" His voice is shocked even to his own ears, disbelief vividly colouring every syllable, and she laughs, a sound that sends so much joy racing through him, tangling her fingers through his.

"Of course I do, you idiot," she says affectionately. "I love you  _so_  much." Another kiss, too brief to satisfy the urge in Vision's chest that calls for endless hours of kissing, making up for so much time lost to circumstance. "You have no idea, Vizh, you really don't. I  _adore_  you. There is no one I would rather start a family with."

"A  _family_ ," he breathes, and she nods, beaming up at him, tears still shining silver on her skin. "I'm going to be a  _father_." He touches her bump again, and she links her fingers through his and brings his hand to her lips, pressing kisses to his knuckles. "How did you find out?"

"Turns out, that wasn't the flu that I caught in Lagos," she says quietly, shifting closer to him, her arms sliding around his neck. "The headaches, the backache, the nausea - it was all because I was pregnant, I just never considered the possibility. I found out in the Raft, that's why they sent me here."

" _Wanda_." He kisses her, cupping her face between his hands, stroking her hair, and she leans into him, and he can feel her smiling against his mouth. "God, Wanda, darling, I'm so sorry you had to go through all that alone."

"It doesn't matter," she says, and her eyes are bright and her cheeks are pink with joy and she looks like a woman in love. Vision just can't quite believe that it's him. He can't believe he's that lucky. "You're here now, and you love me and I love you. That's what matters." She cups a hand to his cheek, and softly asks, "Are you happy?"

"Of course I am, Wanda, I'm  _thrilled_ ," he says, and she grins and tilts her head up to capture his lips in a lingering kiss, until he pulls away and asks, "But how is this  _possible_?"

"I don't know, Vizh," she says softly. "But how are our lives possible? How is it possible that an alien stone gave me superpowers? How is it possible that the same stone and a little bit of lightning brought you to life? How is it possible that, against all odds, we fell in love? They're miracles, Vizh. Just like us."

"Our miracles," Vision murmurs, and she nods eagerly, her eyes shining with a sheen of tears. "I love you." He holds her tighter, pulls her a little closer, lowers his voice so the world narrows to just them. "You're free now. The UN isn't holding you prisoner anymore. And I swear to you, Wanda, I will protect you. You and our sons. No one is going to take you away from me again." He finds that he's tearing up again, and she's looking up at him with concern in her eyes, and he softly says, "I can't lose you, Wanda. I can't be without you. Life just isn't the same."

"I'm not leaving, Vizh," she says, and she's crying and he's crying and they're clutching at each other, she wipes a tear from his cheek with her thumb and says, "I'm here. I'll always be here. I love you."

"I love you too," he says, knowing he could say those words with every breath he takes and it would still never be enough to truly tell her how deeply he feels for her. When he kisses her again, her lips taste like salt from how much they're both crying, and he wraps one arm around her and slides his other hand down to cup over her bump.

A movement against his hand sends him reeling backwards, and Wanda looks as shocked as he feels, dropping her own hand to her bump, and slowly she smiles. "One of them kicked," she says softly, and grins up at him.

"Was that...was that the first time you felt movement?" he asks softly, and she nods, tears spilling down her cheeks. "That's...it's  _amazing_."

She grabs his wrist and pulls his hand back to her bump, and he feels another jab into his palm, and stares down at her belly, dropping to his knees to press a kiss to her skin. "Hello, boys," he breathes, and Wanda lets out a wordless sob. "I'm your father."

Wanda tugs on his hand to bring him back to his feet for another kiss, deep and lingering and passionate, and he sinks into her, truly happy for the first time in weeks. Content and at peace, with the woman he loves in his arms and their children happily kicking against his hand.


	4. navigating the new

**A/N:** Thank you again for all the feedback! I'm constantly amazed by the response to this story! Hope everyone enjoys this chapter! :)

* * *

Waking to the sunlight streaming through the windows is familiar, but as soon as the weight of Vision's arm resting over her side registers Wanda is smiling softly, easing herself upright and glancing over at him, still fast asleep next to her. She feels the nudge of one of the babies kicking, presses a hand to her bump with a helpless, giddy smile, and leans down to press a kiss to Vision's bare shoulder before getting out of bed. Glancing back at him, shifting slightly beneath the blankets, she quietly thinks that this is what she has to look forward to every morning for the rest of her life.

There's a slight melancholy settling in her mind when she takes her last look around the bungalow, leaning against the railings of the deck, the breeze rustling her skirt. Within a few hours, she'll be back in the compound, surrounded by the team again, with Vision at her side. But she will miss the safehouse, the idyllic mornings and the peaceful surroundings. It would be a beautiful place to raise a family. But, to stay here, she'd have to give Vision up. And she's never doing that again.

A footstep on the deck behind her makes a smile pull at the corners of her mouth, Vision's hands cupping over hers clutching the railing, his lips brushing the back of her neck. "You should've woken me up," he says softly, breathing warm against her skin and making her shiver.

"But you looked so peaceful," she replies, turning one hand over to tangle her fingers with his. "I don't think I've ever seen you sleeping."

"I don't need as much sleep as the average human being, normally I would be awake before you," he says. "But I haven't slept well since...well, since your mission in Lagos, really. First you were away, then you were ill, then you were away again. It made quieting my mind enough to sleep difficult."

She turns in his arms, drinking in every detail of his face, cupping a hand to his cheek and trying to memorise the warmth of his skin. "You worry too much," she says softly.

He cups a hand over her bump, thumb caressing the curve in a way that makes her smile, so new, everything she's been hoping for since she found out, the wonder in his eyes bringing a lump to her throat. "Now we know there was a reason for the worry," he says, and glances down at her belly. "How are the boys this morning?"

"Perfectly healthy, nothing wrong, and as long as I stay healthy there's no reason to worry," she tells him, swallowing a giggle when she sees him visibly relax. "The doctor who's been taking care of me works for SHIELD, she took care of Laura through all three pregnancies, and she'll stay my doctor when we go home. I can have her talk you through how everything's been looking, show you an ultrasound, anything you want."

"I want everything," he says, barely after she's finished speaking, and she smiles up at him. "I want to give you and our children everything I possibly can, Wanda. I want to experience this to the fullest extent I can." Leaning closer, he quietly says, "I still can't believe this is  _real_. I just...I feel like any moment I'm going to wake up and this will all have been a dream."

He starts when she pinches him in the side, giving her a wounded look, and she giggles. "It's not a dream," she says. "I promise, Vizh, this is real. We're going to be a  _family_." Caressing her thumb over his cheek, the way his eyes fall momentarily closed and he leans into her touch making her smile softly, she waits for his gaze to meet hers and says, "I love you."

"I love you too," he says, and she smiles into the kiss he leans down to initiate, sliding her arms around his neck and revelling in this new freedom to kiss him whenever she wants to, knowing that her feelings are entirely requited, knowing that he wants their family as much as she does. Knowing that her faith was justified.

"Ms. Maximoff?" The voice has her reluctantly pulling away from Vision, sliding her hand down to link her fingers through his as she turns her head to see Rachel standing at the edge of the deck, watching them. "Sorry to rush you, but you do have to be off this property within the hour."

"Of course," Vision says before Wanda has even opened her mouth, and brushes a kiss to the top of her head. "I'll go check we packed everything before we fell asleep last night. You take your time, darling."

A blush stealing into her cheeks at the use of the pet name, one Vision is apparently going to use often from the number of times it's already slipped from him in their one night reunited, she leaves her hand in his until he's too far away to keep hold, and watches him move back into the bungalow with a helpless smile. "So," Rachel says, dragging Wanda's attention back to her, and she looks down to see the young soldier watching her curiously, "I guess the father isn't a civilian?"

Flushing in embarrassment at being so quickly caught out, she asks, "Would anyone believe me if I tried to keep that lie going?"

Rachel laughs and says, "It's not as if you lying about it affected any investigation. And you're not a prisoner anymore." Glancing at the open doorway, she grins and adds, "He's clearly crazy about you."

"Well good," Wanda says, and smiles softly when she sees Vision's silhouette behind the bedroom window curtain. "Because I'm crazy about him too."

"You're really lucky you found each other," she says, and Wanda beams at her. "I hope you're really happy and the rest of your pregnancy goes smoothly and your children are healthy."

"Thank you," Wanda says, and truly means it. "And thank you for being kind to me. This...wasn't a fun ten weeks." Rachel just nods, and moves away on her patrolling, and Wanda quietly thanks whichever senior officer in the Raft was the one who put together a team that included genuinely good-hearted people.

Breathing in the fresh breeze one last time, she leaves the dappled sunlight and the view of glossy greenery behind to return to the bedroom, finding Vision waiting for her, dressed for the drive. Taking a brief moment to mourn that he's put a shirt back on after an entire night of her being able to trace the lines of vibranium crisscrossing his chest with no barrier, she quirks a flirtatious eyebrow and says, "You know, she did say we still have an hour in this place."

"Fifty-three minutes now," Vision corrects immediately, and she smirks and crosses the room to him, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

"You know what that gives us time for?" she asks softly, and almost laughs in delight as she watches his pupils dilate with desire, hears the hitch in his breath. "It's not long enough for everything I want to do with you, but we can make it quick. We have a whole lifetime for everything."

She opens a button on his shirt, smirking at another hitch in his breath, then another, leans in and presses a kiss to the plate of vibranium normally hidden by his collar. " _Wanda_ ," he breathes, making her shiver, but then sets his hands on her shoulder and pushes her a step back. "We can't."

"Vizh, we'll be quick," she says, affecting her most seductive tone and pressing as close to him as she can. "I know you don't need a lot of time to make me fall apart."

"No, Wanda, we can't," he insists, and puts a hand on her bump, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he runs his hand over her skin. "What if it were to hurt them?"

"Vizh, I  _asked_  Emma about that, she says there's no risk that sex will hurt them or pose any risk to my pregnancy as long as we're careful," she says, looking up at him and seeing the want in his eyes, sending a thrill rushing through her. "C'mon. We only got one night, and I've been thinking about it ever since."

" _God_ , Wanda, so have I," he breathes, almost a groan, and she can feel the desire in the way he leans down and kisses her, his fingers tightening against her side when she opens her mouth against his and traces her tongue over his lower lip. He breaks away with a gasp, stops touching her and steps back completely, and says, "But I won't risk it. Even if the chances of something going wrong are small, I won't do anything that could increase the risk."

He must see that she turns away to try and hide her disappointment, because the next thing she knows is him taking her hand and spinning her around, pressing a soft kiss to her palm and saying, "Believe me, Wanda, I want to. But our children are a miracle and a blessing. I can't in good conscience risk them for anything." The slightest smirk curls the corner of his mouth as he leans in closer to her and adds, "Besides, imagine how good it will be when we've waited so long."

"I knew I fell in love with you for a reason," she says softly, and tilts her head up to capture his lips in a lingering open-mouthed kiss, sliding her hands down his chest, feeling out where skin transforms to vibranium and back again beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

Pulling out of the kiss, leaning their foreheads together and running gentle fingers through her hair, Vision murmurs, "We should get moving. The whole team is waiting for us to return," before he moves away from her, leaving her breathing shallowly and trying to calm her quickening heartbeat.

"How is this going to happen?" she asks as he turns away from her, wincing at how few her belongings are. Only her uniform from the airport fight and the clothes she's been given since her body began to change so dramatically. "I'm pretty obviously pregnant, Vizh. We can't keep it a secret."

"Nor would I want to keep this a secret," Vision promises, turning quickly to kiss her, leaving her with a pleased flush in her cheeks "The press have been kept far away from the compound ever since the others were released from the Raft, so there's no chance of any paparazzi catching on before you're ready. Mr. Stark has made a point to not let it become public knowledge that you've been released from UN custody until we're safely back in the compound."

"But what about the babies, Vizh?" she asks, and he looks down and bites at his lip, fidgeting with the zip on her small backpack. "People are going to figure it out. I don't want to have to hide out in the compound until I give birth."

"We'll have to talk to Ms. Williams," he says, and her lip curls at the mention of their public relations officer, who's been whispering things she's completely ignored in her ear ever since she officially joined the Avengers. She still remembers Rebecca lecturing her for having a drink or two too many at the Stark Christmas Gala and, apparently, spending too much of her evening dancing with Vision instead of with everyone she should've been photographed dancing with. "But you're right. We'll have to tell people as soon as possible."

"Good," she says, and reaches out for him, pulling him close and smiling up at him. "I don't want to hide the way I feel about you."

"Likewise," he says, and brushes a gentle kiss to her forehead. "If you're ready, we can leave now. I'm sure you want to see the rest of the team."

"None of them know it's twins," she says, pressing a hand to her bump. "That's going to be a fun announcement to make to our teammates."

"Think of it as a trial run for telling the whole world," he says, and the thought is one that crashes over her like a wave of cold water. For so long, it's been just her knowing about the babies, a secret kept bright and glowing in her heart, and she never thought past telling Vision. But she can't just stay hiding out in the compound - she's spent ten weeks locked away from the rest of the world, she can't go from that to a self-imposed imprisonment. She'll have to acknowledge that both she and Vision are world-famous and millions of people will be watching them. There's just no way she's going to be able to hide that she's pregnant.

Lost in thought, she starts when Vision's arms slides around her, looks up to him smiling down at her, warm reassurance in his eyes. "Don't be scared," he says softly, cupping a hand over her bump, and she smiles helplessly at the way he grins when one of the twins nudges against his hand. "It doesn't matter what people think. What matters is whether we're happy." Leaning closer, he murmurs, "And I am  _ecstatically_  happy."

"Me too," she replies sweetly, and pulls him down by the collar into a kiss, feeling him smile against her mouth. In the back of her mind, she wonders how many times she's kissed him since he returned to her side, how many times she's pressed her lips to his and her heart has started beating faster and a flush has stolen up her neck. And she thinks that she has an entire lifetime to kiss him whenever she wants, as many times as she wants to kiss him, memorise how his lips feel against hers.

She pulls away first, thrills to watch how slowly he opens his eyes, his breathing shallower than it was before, and arches an eyebrow at him. "Still sure about waiting until they're born to have sex?" she teases, and he shakes his head fondly at her, kissing the top of her head.

"We should go," he says, and she laughs at his obvious dodging of the subject.

Before she's so much as reached out to grab her backpack, he's already swung it over his shoulder, giving her a pointed look, and she rolls her eyes slightly. "You're going to be one of  _those_  fathers-to-be, aren't you?" she asks, and he looks bashfully away. "All panicky, not letting me do a thing, doing everything you can to protect me. Even if it's a little over the top."

"Can you blame me?" he asks, cupping a protective hand over her bump. "There's no better definition of a miracle than our children. What if this is the only chance we get to have a family like this?"

"I know, Vizh, believe me, I thought about that," she says, and flicks her fingers out to wrap her backpack in glowing red, curling one corner of her mouth in a smirk at him, "but I'm not some wilting flower who needs you to do everything for me. I'm past the highest risk time for miscarriage, we were both healthy before I got pregnant, everything is  _fine_."

Her backpack follows her out to the car, Vision further behind, and she smiles when he says, "Seatbelt," as soon as she eases herself into her seat. Waiting for him to duck into the car, she leans over to set her head momentarily on his shoulder, savouring the last few moments they'll have to themselves.

"I want a home like this," she says quietly. "One day, far in the future. When the world doesn't need us to protect it anymore. Somewhere we can be together. Just us." A nudge from one of the babies, and she smiles and adds, "Us and the boys."

He turns his head to kiss the top of her head, and she smiles softly when he says, "That sounds perfect." Brushing one last kiss against her temple, fingers combing gently through her hair, he leans back into the driver's seat and says, "Sit back. And put your seatbelt on."

At some point, lost in admiring him, hand curved loosely over her bump, smiling and thinking of him as both the love of her life and the father of her children, she must fall asleep, because she wakes up to the sight of the compound, Vision pulling the car away from the main entrance to keep them from being noticed by persistent members of the press lurking outside the gates. He glances at her and tangles his fingers through hers, as she leans as close to the window as she can to look up at the first place she could call home since her parents' death, a lump in her throat as she looks over the familiar building. "I didn't think I missed this place so much," she whispers, a crack in her voice, and he squeezes her hand tightly.

"It wasn't the same with you in it," he says softly, and turns the car into the hangar, pulling into the space next to one of Tony's flashy sports cars, switching the engine off and turning to her look at her. "Are you alright, darling?"

She smiles at him, runs her thumb over the back of his hand and says, "I'm fine, Vizh. Now let's go tell our charming teammates that we're expecting twins."

He rushes to open her door and offer a hand to help her out of the car, his arm sliding briefly around her waist, and she beams and raises her head to kiss him, soft and sweet. Hands linked, they leave the hangar behind and follow the spiralling stairs into the main rooms of the compound, and she smiles helplessly as she looks around at the familiar walls, the sound of footsteps and the hum of the coffee machine on the air. The sounds of home, of family, of the place she belongs.

"Welcome back, lovebirds," comes Tony's voice, and she looks up to see him leaning out of the archway into the kitchen, grinning at them. "Now get your asses in here, we ordered pizza to celebrate!"

The lump in Wanda's throat grows harder, making her breathing shallow, when she walks into the room to be greeted by the smiling faces of her friends and teammates, people she hasn't seen in ten weeks all lighting up when they see her. "Wow," Scott says, the first to break the silence, staring at her, gaze flickering between her face and her bump. "You're really pregnant. This is really happening. There's really a baby in there."

Glancing up at Vision, who gives her an encouraging smile, Wanda blinks away the tears prickling behind her eyes and says, "Actually...there's two. We're having twins."

A split-second of silence, and Clint holds out a hand towards the coffee table, every eye in the room going to him. "Pay up," he says cheerfully. "I called it!"

Watching the rest of the team reluctantly drop dollar bills into Clint's eagerly waiting hand, grinning to herself at her teammate's smug grin, Wanda looks up into Vision's bright eyes. "We're home," he says softly, quiet enough that no one else hears him, and she nods, trying to swallow her tears, and he leans down first to initiate a kiss.

The theme music for the news blares suddenly out of the TV speakers, Wanda pulling hastily away from Vision and turning to see her own face plastered across the screen, the suited reporter saying, "We have just received reports that former Avenger Wanda Maximoff, also know as the Scarlet Witch, has been released from UN custody following the completion of a deal between Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross, and current Avengers leader, Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man. Ms. Maximoff will be the last of those people surrounding Captain Rogers to be released from custody after ten weeks in a private facility."

"So when are you two going to tell the world that you're already halfway through your first pregnancy?" Tony asks, giving them a pointed look, and Wanda just rolls her eyes at her teammate.

"As soon as possible, we hope," Vision answers for her, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her temple. "I certainly don't want to keep this a secret."

"You won't be able to," Rhodey remarks. "There's been photographers camped out up and down the road for weeks."

"I told Rebecca that she'd have a little something extra to handle when you got back, she cleared her schedule as best she could and she'll be over here for a meeting next week," Natasha says, and Wanda winces. "I know you don't like her, Wanda, but this is going to need some explaining."

"You really think so?" Sam teases her. "You think all the people who keep up with the news about us don't know how it goes? Or maybe  _you_  don't know how it goes." Reaching for his beer, he says, "You see, Nat, when a man and a woman love each other-  _ow_!"

Wanda laughs and shoots Natasha a thumbs up for elbowing Sam hard in the side, leaving their teammate wincing, and turns to Vision. "Are you ready to tell people?" she asks, cupping her hand to his cheek, and he smiles.

"With you? I can do anything."

* * *

The clink of Rebecca setting her coffee mug down on the glass conference table is unbearably loud in the silence that has reigned since she walked into the conference room, blinked at Wanda's bump a few times and loudly said, "You have  _got_  to be shitting me," before turning to the coffee machine at the corner of the room, huffing in frustration to herself every few moments. As she stares both of them down from behind her glasses, Wanda feels Vision's hand contract around hers, and squeezes reassuringly back.

"Okay," Rebecca finally says, pulling her long dark braid over one shoulder and adjusting her laptop to set it perfectly in line with her files. "So, Wanda, you were not the one I thought would make me deal with this first. I've been waiting for Tony to call me with a baby on the way since I started working for him."

"Well, surprise," Wanda says, and Vision glances pointedly at her for the sarcasm layered thickly through her words, despite her slight attempts to tame it. "Vizh and I are having twins and that's that."

"Wanda is twenty weeks pregnant, Ms. Williams," Vision says, so much politer and more anxious than Wanda herself. "They're boys. Everything has been going well and healthy with them."

"That's good news," Rebecca says, and Wanda bristles instinctively at the reaction, Vision's thumb sweeping a caress over the back of her hand calming her down. "Okay, here's the plan. I call a press conference for next week, telling the press it's a full team one to talk about the Accords, the Clash of the Avengers, the Raft and so on, you know the drill. But we'll make sure you're in there before members of the press, Wanda, and we'll use the huge numbers of people who will want to get the story about all this mess first to tell the world that you're expecting."

"You're sure that a press conference is the best way to announce this?" Wanda asks, a helpless smile pulling at the corners of her mouth when Vision's hand runs over her bump beneath the table. "We could do an exclusive interview with someone. Isn't that how most couples in the public eye announce pregnancies?"

"A press conference is the easiest way to get the word out without having to answer the same questions dozens of times, and, given how obviously pregnant you are, the quickest way to get the announcement out there on our own terms," Rebecca says, and Wanda has to back down. "If there are requests for follow up interviews, I'll handle them. I imagine parenting magazines will be eager to talk to the expecting Avengers."

"And what if there's backlash?" Vision asks, anxiety woven through his words, and Wanda squeezes his hand and turns to kiss his cheek.

"You worry too much," she says softly, but he turns his head away from her, eyes on Rebecca, watching them closely. "Vizh? Are you really worried about what people will say? You said it didn't  _matter_  what other people think."

"It does," he says, muted and shadowed with sadness. "We have public images, Wanda, and they haven't always been the most positive. People could...twist this. They could use it to tear us down."

"Rest assured, Vision, if there is backlash you won't have to deal with it," Rebecca says. "I worked for the Avengers before you two joined up, and I've been dealing with negativity towards all of my clients for years. I can't guarantee everyone will be happy for you and praise this, but I  _can_  guarantee that you won't have to face any negativity yourselves."

"See, Vizh?" Wanda says softly, squeezing his hand until he turns his head back to look at her, giving him a reassuring smile. "Everything's going to be fine. We're going to tell everyone that we love each other and we're going to be parents!"

"That's another question I have," Rebecca says, distracting Wanda from watching Vision start to lean in for the kiss, and she turns an irritated gaze on the woman sitting opposite. "You know what the world is like in looking for relationships to be defined. So how would you two define your relationship as it stands now?"

Blinking at her a few times, Wanda looks at Vision's slightly confused expression before she answers, "We love each other and we're going to be parents."

"So were you together at the time of conception?" Rebecca asks, gaze searching out their secrets, and Wanda shakes her head and wills herself not to blush at the memory of their night together, Vision shifting in his chair next to her at the same memories. "So are you only together now because you're pregnant?"

" _No_!" Wanda exclaims immediately, offended at the very idea that they would've gotten together for convenience's sake. "The timing just wasn't right for us to get together before now. I'd want to be with him whether I was pregnant or not."

"You mean that?" Vision asks, very softly, and she twines her fingers between his and lifts his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles and smiling at the way he bashfully ducks his head.

"Of course I do," she breathes, cupping a hand to his cheek, waiting for his eyes to meet hers before she continues, "I love you, Vizh. I've loved you for a long time, and I don't plan on stopping. Our boys didn't make me magically fall in love with you for their sake." Squeezing his hand a little tighter in hers, she smiles at him and firmly says, "You  _never_  have to worry that we're only together because you got me pregnant."

He leans in first to kiss her, his hand covering her own curved against his face, and she forgets their surroundings until Rebecca clears her throat pointedly and Vision breaks away first. "Obviously, you two still have the minutiae of your relationship to figure out, but I think we're done here," Rebecca says, gathering her files together and draining the dregs of her coffee. "I'll email the details of the press conference over when they're all finalised, and you two give me a call if you have any problems figuring out what you're going to say."

Only after she's left the room does Wanda lean into Vision and murmur, "I really don't like her."

He chuckles and kisses her temple, sliding his arm around her to cup a hand over her bump, beaming as one of the babies nudged into his hand. "I'm afraid having people like her watching our lives simply goes hand-in-hand with being Avengers, darling," he says softly, and she huffs in frustration.

"She lectured me for twenty minutes after the Stark Christmas Gala because the only person I got photographed dancing with was you," she says, gripping his arm tightly to haul herself to her feet, his protective hovering not bothering her when she can look up to a small, adorably confused frown on his face.

"As I remember it, you only danced with me all night," he says, and she nods, smiling up at him. "Why would Ms. Williams lecture you about that?"

"Apparently I should've been getting photographed dancing with the rest of the team and some Stark Industries officials," she says with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "She wasn't happy about having to squash some rumours that we were secretly dating." Trying to smother a yawn, she leans into Vision, letting him bow his head and kiss the top of her head and rub the spot at the small of her back that's been aching persistently since she woke up, and irritably asks, "Can you believe her acting like we don't know what we're doing? Or that we would ever have gotten together just because of the babies? You offered to just stay friends who slept together once and I said no!"

"Well she's not to know that, darling," Vision says, and kisses the pout from her lips. "And if you're yawning you need to sleep. I know you were up early to sneak out of bed and try to cancel that meeting."

"I'm not sharing a bed with you anymore," she says sulkily, and he chuckles and kisses her once more before leaning down to slide his arm beneath her legs and lift her into his arms, letting her rub her cheek against the soft fabric of his sweater and hide her next yawn in his chest.

"Can you believe her though?" she asks when he sets her down on their bed, busying himself slipping off her shoes and socks for her. "Suggesting we need to figure out the  _minutiae_  of our  _relationship_. As if there's anything to figure out!"

"I believe she simply means that we should place a label on our relationship," Vision says, and she scoffs as she raises her arms for him to change her shirt for her, smirking when she recognises the oversized shirt as belonging to him.

"We love each other," she says, smiling up at him as she lies down, tucking a pillow firmly beneath her bump. "What else is there to label?"

"Let's talk about this when you're not half-asleep," he says, and she nods through another yawn, grinning helplessly when he kneels down to kiss her belly as he pulls the blankets up over her. "I'll wake you up before dinner, darling. Sweet dreams. I love you."

"Love you too," she murmurs sleepily, and lets her eyes slip closed as he brushes a kiss to her forehead and stands, leaving her.

She wakes to the same kiss brushed to her forehead, opening her eyes to Vision gazing tenderly at her, and cranes out of bed to kiss his lips. Blinking sleepily at him, she notices his subtle change of clothes, and runs her fingertips over the soft cashmere on his sweater, smiling softly. "Look at you, getting all dressed up for me," she murmurs, and he smiles shyly and helps her sit up. "Is this black tie takeaway pizza tonight?"

"Actually, I think you'll find that I cooked," he says, and she tries to school her face into a suitably impressed expression. "I've been practicing, and I wanted to do something special for you. Since you were as polite as you could manage to be in our meeting with Ms. Williams." She rolls her eyes and smacks at his shoulder, and he grins and kisses her.

"Do I have to change?" she asks when he breaks away, diverting his attention to her bump instead. "You can't look so handsome and be dining with me in this state."

"Wanda, you know you're beautiful," he whispers, kissing her belly and turning back to tilt his forehead against hers, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You are  _glowing_."

"Pregnancy glow isn't real, you idiot," she says affectionately.

"You are always glowing," he says, and she rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "From the moment I first saw you, you were shining."

"Stop it," she says softly, and he smiles as he helps her to her feet, sliding his arms around her to bring them as close as they can get. "I never would've pegged you for a romantic."

"You just bring it out in me, darling," he says, and she shakes her head and pulls him in for a kiss to shut him up, taking his bottom lip between hers and tugging slightly to hear his sharp gasp and feel his fingers dig into her momentarily.

"Give me fifteen minutes to change," she says when she ends the kiss, watching him look around in a daze, thrilling at the effect she has on him. "Then I can come sample your cooking. I'm sure you've mastered the craft by now."

Kissing her cheek, he leaves her to flick through her closet in search of something that will fit over her bump, eventually settling for the same black dress she's been wearing as a staple around the compound, tugging at it until it settles over her bump without looking grotesque. Pulling her hair back to hide the tangles, she leaves her room to find the compound eerily silent, Vision waiting in the kitchen with candles lit and his usual jazz record softly playing in the background. "Where is everyone?" she asks, smiling when he pulls her chair out for her and brushes a kiss to her shoulder.

"Mr. Stark thought we might enjoy a quiet evening alone, and took everyone out for dinner," he says, pouring her a glass of water and setting a plate of pasta in front of her. "He's looking to rebuild the team camaraderie."

"That's going to take a while," she observes, and takes a forkful of the pasta, giving him an approving nod when she tastes it. "This is good. Who helped you?"

"I assure you, Wanda, I did this all myself," he says, false offence laced through every syllable, and she arches an eyebrow at him. "But I have been cooking with Mr. Wilson since his release. He taught me some tricks."

"I'll have to write him a thank you note," she says. "Because now I can get you to cook for me all the time and put my feet up." At the look he gives her, she protests, "You're the one who got me pregnant with twins! Don't you know how much strain that puts on my body?!"

His expression changes immediately to concern, reaching across the table to take her hand, eyes searching her face. "Do you need to lie down again?" he asks anxiously. "This can be reheated, darling, if you need to go back to bed that's perfectly fine!"

"I was joking, Vizh," she says, and holds his hand tighter before he can pull away in embarrassment. "Thank you for doing this for me. I'm sure Tony didn't decide of his own volition to take the whole team out for dinner when half of them still aren't speaking to each other."

"Captain Rogers did at least nod at Mr. Stark last night," Vision says, and she giggles. "Truth be told, I did ask Mr. Stark to give us some privacy for the evening. I thought that perhaps, even though we can't leave the compound until we announce that you're pregnant, we could still have our first date."

"This is perfect," she says sweetly to him, and he smiles at her in the soft candlelight. "The best first date anyone's ever had. I love you, Vizh."

"I love you too," he says, and she watches the candlelight flickering against the mind stone, making it glow warm yellow, and admires the lines of his face in the ambient lighting. "I meant what I said, you know. I wasn't just trying to be a romantic. You were shining from the first moment I saw you, in that first minute of my life. My first coherent thought was that you were beautiful."

"Then why did you take so long to make the first move?" she teases, and he shakes his head at her.

"You always seemed so perfect to me," he says, and she leans against her hand to listen to him, smiling dreamily at him. "I think I loved you from the moment we first touched, I just couldn't make sense of the way I felt. The closer we became, the more difficult it was to deny those feelings. The first time I kissed you is one of the happiest moments of my life. That night was the most perfect of my existence. I never even imagined that I could feel as strongly for someone as I do for you. You are my everything, Wanda." Leaning out of his chair, he curves his hand over her belly with a smile, saying, "You've given me more happiness than I could ever have dreamed of. My life would never be complete without you in it."

He links his fingers through hers, and her heart stops when he goes to one knee. "Vizh, what are you doing?" she says, voice shaking, and he looks up at her, smile fading. "Don't, honey, please don't."

"You...you don't want me to propose?" he asks, and she notices his hands trembling as she shakes her head.

"No, Vizh, I don't want you to propose," she says, and he pulls his hand away from hers, blinking rapidly.

" _Oh_." The single syllable is the saddest sound she's ever heard, his voice breaking, and he won't meet her eyes. "I...I'm sorry, Wanda." He sniffs hard, she sees the shine of a tear slipping down his cheek, and his voice is thick with emotion when he asks, "Does...does this mean it's...o-over?"

"Vizh,  _no_!" she exclaims, leaning down as best she can in her chair to reach for him, wincing when he ducks away from her attempt to cup his face between her hands. "Vision, look at me."

"It's okay if you're breaking up with me," he says, and her heart splinters slightly when she sees the tears in his eyes. "I kn-knew it was just a matter of time. I knew this was temporary. Just please,  _please_  let me stay your friend. I meant it, my life wouldn't be complete without you in it."

" _Vision_ , I'm  _not_  breaking up with you!" she insists. "I will  _never_  break up with you." Still he won't look at her, kneeling on the floor just out of comfortable reach, and she sighs and says, "Babe,  _please_ , can we go sit on the couch, I can't kneel down with this bump in the way." Getting up regardless of his silence, she takes his hand to pull him along with her, drawing him into a tight hug when she sits down, and he clings to her, fingers digging into her sides, shoulders shaking with his crying. "Vizh, why are you asking me to marry you?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, and sits back on the couch, eyes very red and starting to swell, face streaked with tears, the sight of him bringing a lump to her throat. "I just...I thought it was the best gesture I could make. People just have these certain views about unmarried mothers, and I know I want to be with you for the rest of my life, I wanted to reassure you that I'll always be here, I just wanted to be romantic and spontaneous, please don't leave me, I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset. And I'm not leaving you, I promise," she says softly, wiping a tear away from his cheek with her thumb, meeting his eyes. "But I don't need you to propose to me to know you'll always be here, Vizh. I know you're romantic and spontaneous. I don't need to marry you yet."

"Yet?" He straightens up, eyes brightening with hope. "You want to marry me?"

"Of course I do," she says, and he finally smiles through his tears. "After we have the babies, and we're a family. In a year, I'd say yes. But not now. I don't care that we unexpectedly got pregnant before we were even together. I don't care about having my first child out of wedlock. I care that I'm having my first child with someone I love. Who loves me back."

"I do," he breathes, and she smiles. "I love you so much, Wanda. I want to marry you. I want a family and a home and a  _life_  with you."

"And I want all of that, Vizh, I promise I do. But I want to take it  _slowly_ ," she says softly, lacing her fingers through his. "I got pregnant and that hit the accelerator on our relationship, but that doesn't mean we have to have a shotgun wedding." Cupping his face between her hands, thrilling at the way he leans into her touch, she says, "If you desperately want a label for us, we could try out being boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"So...so you'd be my  _girlfriend_?" he says, and she smiles at the wonder in his voice. "And I would be your boyfriend." He gives her a small, sweet smile, and says, "I think I like it."

"I do too," she says, and leans in to kiss him, tasting the salt lingering on his lips, his arms winding tightly around her. "So,  _boyfriend_ , just out of curiosity - did you buy a ring?"

"It's stupid," he says, fidgeting with the distinct shape of a box in his pocket - she's not sure how she didn't notice before. "But before we were reunited, before I knew you were pregnant, I thought that if I found you and, by some miracle, you wanted me too, I would ask you. Because then no one could take you away from me again. And I found this online, and I bought it for you. I was so lonely and miserable, I just wanted something to look at and think that maybe you would want to spend your life with me."

"We wasted so much time thinking we didn't both feel the same," she observes softly, blinking back tears. "Can I see it?"

He blinks at her for a second, then shyly withdraws the velvet-covered blue box from his pocket, pressing it gently into her hand. Opening it, she barely bites back a gasp, and tears prickle hotly behind her eyes. The ring in the box is uncannily similar to her mother's engagement ring, still hanging on its chain around her neck, never taken off since a solemn-faced doctor gave her that tiny envelope containing her parents' few belongings salvaged from their destroyed apartment. Gold band, a small polished red stone in a neat circular setting, but, unlike her mother's ring, bordered by two gems close in colour to the mind stone. " _Vizh_ ," she chokes out, tears falling when she blinks, and he moves closer to her, kissing her shoulder, then her cheek, then her temple. "It's  _beautiful_." Closing the lid of the box with a snap, she leans into him and says, "You better propose properly with the same ring."

"I can promise that I will," he says, and she smiles, sliding the box back into his pocket.

"Good," she says, kissing his shoulder. "Because I think Vision Maximoff has a nice ring to it."

She hears his sharp intake of breath before he stammers out, "You...you would give me your name?"

"Well, honey, you don't have a last name for me to take," she says. "And it's sort of perfect this way. It means...it means my father's name won't have died with Pietro. We can carry it on."

He lifts her face to meet her eyes, smudges a tear clinging to her cheekbone away, and softly says, "I would be honoured to help carry on your family name. Our sons will be Maximoffs."

She lets out a sob and kisses him, his arms sliding around her until he's cradling her, and presses their foreheads together when the kiss comes to its end. "I love you."

"I love you too," he breathes, and surges forward into another kiss, leaning back on the couch to allow her to slide into his lap, staying in his arms as the candles burn low in time to whispered promises.

* * *

Hastily closing his browser window upon hearing Wanda's familiar footsteps, Vision looks up to return her sleepy smile, sliding his arm around her as she curls up to him and kisses his shoulder. "Your sons are particularly active this morning," she says softly, half-muffled into his arm, and he slides his hand over her bump to feel a few jabs against his palm, smiling at this consistent proof of the life in their children. "They won't let me sleep."

"I see," he says, looking at her and seeing the curve of her teasing smile hidden in his shoulder. "So they're my sons exclusively when they're bothering you?"

"Obviously," she says, voice shaking with suppressed laughter, and he smiles and kisses the top of her head.

"Perhaps they're just excited that today the whole world is going to find out they exist," he murmurs into her hair, and she tenses up nervously. Running his fingers gently through her hair, he asks, "Am I right in thinking that their kicking is not the only reason you're struggling to sleep?"

"I'm scared," she confesses quietly, and he slides his arm around her tighter. "I don't know how we're going to explain this. And I don't know what to wear."

"Ms. Williams offered you a stylist and you turned her down," he reminds her, and she looks up to glare at him reproachfully. "And we know what we're going to say, darling. We're simply going to tell that room of press officials that we are expecting twins and let the chaos begin."

She smiles softly, and he pulls her gently into a kiss, cupping a hand over her bump and smiling against her mouth when one of the twins kicks into his palm. "Will you help me get dressed?" she asks quietly. "We can coordinate. I'm guessing the press will be taking a lot of photos."

"You need to eat first," he says firmly, and smiles warmly with affection when she groans faintly and hides her face in his shoulder again. "Toast or porridge?"

"I'm  _bored_  of both of them," she complains, curling her fingers into his sweater and rubbing her cheek against the soft fabric. "What if I have my tea and some fruit now and we get the car to stop for bagels on the way to the conference?"

"That's not part of the meal plan Doctor Flack gave you," he says, and she huffs irritably into his shoulder. "You need to look after yourself, Wanda. We both know there's a high chance you'll go into labour prematurely, and you need to be as healthy as possible to give our children their best chance."

"Babe,  _please_ ," she says, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes and the beginnings of a pout on her lips, and the nickname immediately melts his resolve away. "Are you going to deny your pregnant girlfriend her cravings?"

He sees the smirk start to curl one corner of her mouth, the triumph gleaming in her eyes, and shakes his head fondly. "Fine," he says, and she beams and kisses him full on the mouth, pulling away quicker than he would like. Gathering his wits again, he tries to sound stern when he insists, "But it's back to the meal plan tomorrow."

"You're the best baby daddy ever," she says sweetly, and he smiles, pulling her back in for another kiss, pulling her shirt up over her bump to trace patterns into her bare skin.

Once her tea is made, he takes his seat on their bed while watching her flick through her wardrobe, picking at a half-full punnet of blueberries. "What about that dress?" he suggests when he recognises one specific pattern, and she pulls the hanger from the rail, running a critical eye over it and slanting a questioning look at him. His voice is quieter, emotion thickening his words at the memory, when he says, "It's what you were wearing when I found out."

" _Vizh_!" she exclaims, eyes shining with sudden tears, and crosses the room to kiss him, spilling tea in her haste. She breaks away already pulling her shirt over her head, grimacing as she tugs at her bra straps before shimmying into the dress. "So, how do I look?"

"Beautiful," he promises, and she grins and turns around for him to button the back, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her neck as he smooths the material beneath his hands. "We have to leave sooner rather than later, Ms. Williams wants us seated before any press arrive."

"Then let's go, I'll do my make-up in the car," she says, throwing her eyeliner pencil and lipstick into her bag and grabbing for his hand. "I'm ready to tell the world about our babies."

"I think you just want to get your ill-gotten bagel," he teases, and she smiles angelically up at him.

"That too." And with that she drags him out of the compound, barely giving him time to politely nod at a fully-dressed but bleary-eyed Stark brewing coffee for himself and Barton, who is face-down and seemingly asleep on the kitchen table.

When they reach the hall booked for their conference, their driver taking a winding route to the back of the building in order to avoid the press already beginning to gather, Williams is already waiting for them, lips pursed disapprovingly. "You're fifteen minutes later than the time you left the compound suggested you would be," she says, and Vision squeezes Wanda's thigh when she lowers her lipstick from her mouth and makes as if to speak.

"Apologies, Ms. Williams, but my lovely girlfriend insisted on stopping for a take-away breakfast," he says, and holds out a hand to help Wanda to her feet and out of the car, unable to bite back the giddy smile that pulls at the corners of her mouth looking at the way her dress stretches so perfectly over her belly, enhancing rather than disguising the curve, making it clear to the world at large that she is pregnant. "Shall we go and take our seats?"

"Just a reminder, Wanda, once the press start arriving you cannot leave your seat until you've announced that you're pregnant, can't have that bombshell dropped too early," Williams says, and Vision pulls Wanda into his side before she can retort sarcastically, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Also, maybe dial back the coupley behaviour. Although you've been this way for months, no wonder there were at least twenty rumours that you were secretly dating."

"Well, it's official now," Wanda says, twining her fingers through Vision's and curling tightly into his side. "We discussed the minutiae of our relationship." Giving her hand a tight warning squeeze, Vision nods politely to Williams and pulls Wanda into the building, getting them their seats behind the long table and pouring her a glass of water. "We're not dialling back the coupley behaviour," she says petulantly, and he smiles softly at her. "I love you. I don't want to hide that."

"You won't have to after today," he says, and she beams, leaning across the small gap between their chairs to kiss him.

"Better stop that, lovebirds, you'll get in trouble!" comes Wilson's voice, and Vision pulls away from Wanda to see him filing in from the backstage area, accompanied by Lang and Rogers. "You guys were like five cars in front of us at the bagel place, but Tic Tac over here took forever to decide what he wanted."

"It was an important decision!" Lang insists, and sprawls out across the chair next to Wanda, setting two cups of take-away coffee on the table in front of them and turning to smile at them. "You guys nervous? I remember hardly sleeping before announcing it when my ex was pregnant, and that was just to our families. You're about to tell the whole world!"

"If it means I get to kiss my boyfriend all the time and leave the compound without worrying about paparazzi, I'm not nervous at all," Wanda says, and turns to kiss Vision once again, the shocked sound he makes at the instantaneous intensity of the kiss muffled against her lips.

"You better stop the spontaneous making out, or Rebecca will get mad at you two for spoiling the surprise," Wilson chimes in, interrupting their moment, and Wanda smirks when she pulls away, wiping a smudge of her lipstick from Vision's mouth with her thumb, eyes gleaming mischievously. She outright laughs when he turns away from her, sitting stiffly in his chair, and pours himself a glass of water for something to do with his hands.

As the press file in and the questions begin, directed mostly to Stark, to Romanoff, to Rhodes, to Rogers, Vision sits and contemplates how different their lives will be after this announcement. It has been wonderful to have this secret to themselves, to stay in the compound and their room and simply be together, keep their children and their love for each other something that is just for them. The whole world will soon be able to have their changing lives made public for their consumption, to pass judgement without knowing or being concerned about all the facts. It is a terrifying thought, knowing that the story will spread quicker than he can comprehend. Everyone will know and, likely, have formed their opinion by the evening.

"Ms. Maximoff?" He's pulled back into the moment when a reporter in the front row addresses Wanda, and she straightens up in her chair, grip on his thigh beneath the table tightening. "How have the Accords affected your life? What's been the biggest change?"

"Well, the  _biggest_  change doesn't actually have anything to do with the Accords," she says, and he sees her take a deep, steadying breath, taking her hand beneath the table. Clearing her throat, her voice rings out strong and confident as she says, "You see, this press conference was a bit of a ruse. You're not here simply to ask us about the Accords and everything that's happened because of them." She turns to look at Vision, and gives him a smile of such sweetness that it takes his breath away. "You're here because there's something I want to share with the world." Lifting their linked hands above the line of the table, she smiles into his eyes and adds, "Something  _we_  want to share. Vision, honey, could you help me up?"

There's an audible gasp around the room when he helps her to her feet, unable to help cupping a proud hand over her bump. "My boyfriend and I," she says, smiling and blushing a little when he kisses her cheek, "are delighted to announce that we're expecting our first child." There's a long moment of still silence, before she lets out a theatrical, " _Oh_  - and our second!" Grinning, her happiness bright for the world to see, she says, "The Scarlet Witch is twenty-one weeks pregnant with twins. There's your headline."

In the ensuing uproar, Vision pulls her close, tears prickling hotly behind his eyes, and cups her face gently between his hands. "I love you," he whispers, and she blinks away her tears, fingers curling into his stiff collar.

"I love you too," she breathes, and tugs him down into a kiss, his arms winding around her to rest his hands at the small of her back, hers around his neck, and the sound of the assembled press shouting their questions and the flashing of cameras fades away, his attention wholly focused on what matters. The love of his life kissing him so passionately despite the crowded room. The woman he's going to marry one day smiling against his mouth. Their sons nudging into the hand that creeps from her back to her belly.

His entire world is wrapped up in his arms.

* * *

Stretching out in the early morning gloom, listening to the soothing patter of rain against the window, Wanda reaches out for her phone as carefully as she can, trying to avoid disturbing Vision's arm wrapped over her side, wanting him to stay asleep and so peaceful a little longer. He doesn't need to know about her morning routine, one that's become force of habit in the six weeks since they announced her pregnancy to the world.

Cupping a hand over her bump when one of the babies kicks, she adjusts herself slightly, wincing at the change in the rhythm of Vision's breathing, thumb hovering over the lock button on her phone. But he settles down again, curling a little closer to her, breath warm against her shoulder, and she allows herself a small smile at her boyfriend, the contentment of the early morning.

The smile slips away, however, when she opens her phone and looks at the alerts surrounding her and Vision's names that have come in overnight. All the allegations, the gossip site reports, the needlessly rude comments on the pictures she's been posting on her Instagram of her bump and the few pieces they've started to collect for the twins, the tweets directed to both of them asking them to tell the truth. Seemingly thousands of people, their refusal to believe drowning out those still sending their congratulations, all of them seeing the simple truth of what she says and accusing her of lying.

Another man has come forward claiming to be the real father. A perfect stranger, happy to take fifteen minutes of the spotlight and tell lies about her, and her eyes blur with tears too much to finish reading the article, the almost gleeful account placing her in the role of the woman clinging to the nearest man stupid enough to offer to support her. A different site has compiled a list of all the reasons why faking a pregnancy would be the perfect publicity stunt to distract the world from the aftershocks of the Accords, why she would be the ideal candidate to dress as suddenly pregnant, young and alone and vulnerable, so easily able to gather sympathy. So-called relationship experts have weighed in to discussions that circle around the belief that she's telling the truth about the twins and their father, and each one places a shorter prediction on the length of her and Vision's relationship, talking solemnly about the questionable nature of a relationship that exists purely for the sake of children.

She starts and hastily sets her phone back on the nightstand when Vision's lips brush against her shoulder, pinning a smile to her lips to hide the hopelessness invading her chest at seeing the response to the most exciting announcement she's ever made, all these people dragging her happiness away from her. Easing herself upright, using him as a support, she rests her head against him to hide her face, cuddling into him when his arm wraps around her. "Are you alright?" he asks softly, kissing the top of her head, running his fingers through her hair, all familiar, soothing gestures.

"I really don't want to go to this stupid event," she mumbles into his skin, the excuse tripping from her tongue rather than tell him what people are still saying, hiding the darkness from him. She doesn't want to take his happiness away from him and let the idiocy of people who think an internet connection allows them to pass judgement on anything they please drag him down. "Why are we even celebrating Tony selling off Stark Tower? Why does it have to be such a big deal?"

"I suspect Ms. Williams is just eager for the opportunity to have photographs of the whole team taken and have us all answer further questions about the Accords," he says, and she huffs irritably. "Are you feeling ill, darling? I'll call her myself and tell her we won't be making it if you can't do it."

"No, it's okay, she hates me enough already without me cancelling an appearance the morning of," she says, lifting her head from his shoulder to give him a reassuring smile. "But I think I'm going to tell her no more fancy public appearances after this. If the world wants to see me, they'll have to wait until after the babies are born."

He nods and ducks down to kiss her bump, tracing a hand over her stretched skin and smiling into her eyes. "Three months to go," he says softly, joy dancing in his eyes, and she hears the hitch of emotion in his breath before he softly says, "I can't wait to meet them."

"You know Emma says it's more likely to be around the end of November than December 15th like she originally said," she says, and sees the usual worry descend into his expression. "Vizh, don't look so scared! It's perfectly normal for twins to come early."

"A premature baby is still a premature baby even if it's statistically more likely," he says solemnly, cupping her bump protectively, and she rolls her eyes fondly.

"Think of it this way," she says, lifting his chin to look into his eyes. "We'll get to meet them earlier. Hold them and name them and see who they look like." Cupping her hand to his cheek, she says, "If they look like you, they'll be the most beautiful babies in the world."

"You're just flattering me," he says, and she grins and shakes her head, pulling him in for a lingering kiss, tracing her fingertips along the plates of vibranium creating a path down his chest.

Pounding on the door makes him pull away from her, and she grits her teeth in frustration at Sam's voice from the corridor. "Wanda? You awake? Scott overestimated how much pancake mix he'd need for four people, want some?!"

"Be through in a minute!" she calls back, listening to Sam's footsteps walking away. But Vision is already out of bed, phased into his clothes and fussing around in her closet for something she can wear, and her shoulders sink in disappointment.

Comfortable team camaraderie seems to have finally started to return to the compound, companionable silence ruling over the kitchen through breakfast, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of newspaper pages or a notification coming in on someone's phone. Comfortably ensconced next to Vision on the couch, him turning his head to brush a kiss to her cheek every so often even though he's engaged in a quiet conversation with Tony and Rhodey, the contentment of the early morning is almost enough to make her forget the way the world sees her relationship and her pregnancy.

Unfortunately, it's not the same when they arrive outside the newly-sold Stark Tower for the celebration of its sale, the press gathered in droves despite the rain. The last to leave the car, she clings to Vision's hand to get to her feet, irritably pulling up the long skirt on her unnecessarily couture-looking dress, wrapping her arm through his when she ducks out onto the street. "Ms. Williams is going to be irritated that you didn't stick directly to the outfit she had styled for you," he says softly to her, and she scoffs, yanking harder at her skirt to pull it to a length she can walk comfortably in.

"Then she should try being six months pregnant with twins and forced to wear a full-length dress and heels," she snaps back to him, picking at the panel of material stretching over her bump. "My feet hurt. If I want to wear flats, I'm going to wear flats. Screw her stupid stylist. Making me look ridiculous."

"You look beautiful," he says, and pulls her a little closer to keep anyone from hearing them. "Wanda, if you want to just leave, we can. Mr. Stark will understand. We can go back to the compound and just have the day to ourselves and you can tell everyone we won't be doing any press appearances until we have the boys."

"Don't tempt me," she groans, and he brings her hand to his lips to kiss her palm, looking down at her with so much tenderness in his eyes. "Let's do this last one. A few pictures out here, make the rounds inside, and leave early. Everyone's happy." Huffing out irritably and giving her dress a last adjusting tug, she says, "I don't know how I managed to go to these stupid things before I got pregnant."

"I believe the free champagne had something to do with it," he teases softly, and she has to grin up at him, tugging on his tie to adjust it.

"You're exactly right, babe," she says, and links her arm through his to start the walk to the doors, cameras flashing and her name being called from every side.

Immediately inside, there's already jazz music playing, suited waiters carrying appetizers on polished silver trays next to a seemingly endless supply of free champagne, and hundreds of incredibly well-dressed people milling around, exchanging pleasantries and laughing to show off perfect teeth. On the verge of questioning whether her small rebellion in refusing the heels sent over by Rebecca's stylist was actually a bad decision, a tap to Wanda's shoulder makes her turn around and almost groan aloud when she's greeted by the overenthusiastic smile of Trevor, Rebecca's ridiculously energetic assistant.

"Brought you a water, Ms. Maximoff, we can't have you ingesting alcohol in your condition!" he says, his voice the very definition of perky, and she tries not to visibly wince at the way his words grate on her slightly aching head. "You look incredible, truly, Ms. Williams is a genius in her styling. Although I suppose she does have wonderful raw material to work with, even that enormous baby bump somehow works for you!"

Vision steers in her away from Trevor and into the party before she can retort, towards the small corner occupied by a few couches and the people of the team that aren't mingling. "What a stupid media circus," Clint comments as soon as she sits down, adjusting herself to try and relieve some of the ache in her back, giving his champagne glass a jealous glance. "Can't believe Tony made us come."

"Cut him some slack, Barton, this was more Rebecca's idea than his," Natasha says, and Clint glares at her.

"Would anyone be opposed to looking into getting a new PR director?" Wanda asks, and gets a chuckle out of Clint, even a small smile from a silent Steve. "Failing that, someone tell her for me that her assistant is annoying and if she makes one more reference to my  _condition_  like it's an illness I can't be held responsible for what I do next."

Over Clint and Natasha's laughter, Vision kisses her temple and says, "I may not be able to do that, darling, but I'll happily inform her politely that we won't be doing any more press appearances after today."

"Thanks babe," she says with a grin, and twines her fingers through his, curling into his side.

"She'll probably organise some huge fancy photoshoot for the big reveal of your twins," Natasha comments, producing a full bottle of champagne from beneath her chair and refilling her and Clint's glasses. "Dare you to just post a picture on social media and be done with it."

"I hope I don't hear you planning ways to annoy our oh-so-lovely PR director," comes Rhodey's voice, and Natasha pins on a poker face as Rhodey comes up behind her, grinning in amusement. "No, honestly, go ahead, she's good at her job but  _man_  is she irritating with it. Vision, come downstairs, Tony's got a whole gathering of scientific bigwigs in the old labs and they're fascinated to meet you."

Vision glances back at Wanda, and she nods and smiles encouragingly. "Go impress the fancy men," she says, leaning back comfortably against the couch. "I can mingle alone for a while. Get my picture taken with some people I'm supposed to be seen with."

Right on cue, Scott comes bounding up to them, an awed look in his eyes. "I can't believe I'm at a fancy Stark Industries event!" he exclaims, and Wanda smiles to see both Natasha and Rhodey ducking their heads to hide their laughter. "Wanda, want to dance?"

Vision helps her to her feet, steadying her, and says, "I'll come find you as soon as the talking is over and we can go home." At her nod, he leans down to give her a parting kiss before leaving with Rhodey, and Wanda turns her smile to Scott as he spins her onto the dance floor, recounting a story about taking his ex-wife to a wedding when she was pregnant and all the hilarity of the day.

After half an hour of dancing with Scott and Sam, she finds herself at the edge of the floor, leaning against the bar and fanning her sweat-slick face with a Stark Industries pamphlet. "Water, Ms. Maximoff?" She looks up to a man wearing a press badge standing nearby, giving her a sympathetic look, and nods gratefully. "A word, perhaps?"

A quick glance around the room shows her that Vision hasn't yet returned from downstairs, and she nods, watching him clear a group of people from a collection of chairs to allow her to sit down. "I'm Adam Manning, my bosses are very interested in conducting an interview with you about your pregnancy."

"Our PR director handles interview requests," Wanda says automatically, picking again at her dress, uncomfortably tucked up from dancing.

"Of course, we have submitted an official request," he says soothingly. "I must say, Ms. Maximoff, you are looking stunning today. All compliments to your stylist." Adjusting himself in his chair, he leans towards her, lowering his voice as he asks, "So, are you excited to have those babies?"

"Very much," she says, cupping a hand over her belly, the familiar nudge against her palm making her smile.

"And what about the father? Is he excited?"

"Vision is very excited," she says, glancing around again for him. "But I'm sorry, Mr. Manning, if you want an interview you'll have to wait for our PR direc-"

"I'm not talking about your gullible boyfriend, Ms. Maximoff," he says, eyes gleaming, and her polite smile immediately drops away. "I'm talking about the  _father_."

"Excuse me?"

"Come  _on_ , Ms. Maximoff, no one is judging you for lying about who the father is," he says, ignorant of the anger rising to the surface, a momentary red spark flashing over her finger. "In fact, I find it rather admirable. So many women in your position would end up alone, but you've found someone foolish enough to convince of a biological impossibility to take care of you. Truly resourceful."

"Vision is their father," she says thinly, bracing her hands on the sides of her chair in an attempt to stand. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm not going to sit here and be accused of-"

"Four different men have come forward in the past six weeks claiming to be the father of your children," he says, and the anger begins to recede in the wake of soul-crushing sadness at that fact, the burden she's taken as her own. "Any comment on that? Don't you think you'll be denying your children something special if their true father is interested in raising them?"

" _None_ ," she snaps. "My children have a father. They don't need men only interested in exploiting me for a few quick minutes in the spotlight."

"Well then, any comment on the widespread belief that you're denying your children something special by raising them yourself?" he asks, and her next scathing words die in her throat. "You are only twenty years old, Ms. Maximoff, and your boyfriend has only existed for a little more than a year. Neither of you has a real job. You live in a communal compound. And, despite what you might believe, no one is convinced that you are in a relationship for any reason other than you being pregnant. How are you going to raise children in an environment that unstable?"

"How dare you?" she snaps, trying to swallow her sadness and let only fury show. "You don't know anything about me, or my relationship, or my life!"

"I know you found out you were pregnant in a prison," he says darkly. "How do you think your children will feel when you one day tell them that story? You weren't even dating their alleged father when your children were conceived. One might even call it a one night stand."

"Stop it!" she snaps, her voice pitching a little higher with how hard she's trying not to cry. "None of that is true!"

"Do you know what happens to children brought up in broken homes?" he asks, staring her down. "They don't become well-adjusted adults. They resent their parents. Some of them might wish that their parents had allowed them to be adopted into a family that truly wanted them instead of selfishly keeping them despite not being ready to have children."

"Shut  _up_!" Wanda shrieks, attracting attention from the people surrounding them, and pushes herself out of her chair, pushing through the crowds of people on the dance floor to the staircase, the floors below quieter and devoid of any members of the press looking to ask her rude, invasive questions that awaken deep-seated fears she's refused to acknowledge until now.

"Wanda?" Tears spill over at Vision's voice, and she looks up briefly into his concerned eyes before crumpling, burying her face in her hands, unable to even think of attempting to quiet her broken sobs. "Darling, what's wrong?!" His arms are around her, a hand stroking her hair, but she can't think of relaxing into him, not when her mind is spinning. "Is is the babies? Is something wrong?"

"We're not ready," she mumbles into his chest, and he tilts her head up to look at him, a quizzical frown on his face. "They'd be better off if we gave them up for adoption. We don't have real jobs. We don't have our own place. We can't provide for them."

"What are you talking about?" he asks, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "We're Avengers. We live in the compound. They're  _our_  children. Our  _miracles_. We're not giving them up. Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm  _not_  being ridiculous!" she snaps, anger flaring and drying her tears. "Are you actually excited at all to have these babies? Or are you just going with societal norms?!"

"Wanda, I am thrilled that we're going to be a family," he insists, taking her hands and giving her that soft smile that would usually make her heart warm with affection, not spike her irritation. "I love you."

"God, just  _stop_  saying that!" she snaps, snatching her hands out of his. "Telling me you love me isn't some magical fix for everything! It's not going to make anyone out there believe that we're dating for any reason other than me being pregnant! It's  _definitely_  not going to stop random men coming forward claiming they're the real father!"

"That's been happening?" he asks in shock, and she nods at him, watching his expression change into a mask, sadness misting his eyes. "Why didn't you  _tell_  me?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't handle it well!" she shouts, and his wounded look only fuels her anger, weeks of pent-up fear and irritation all exploding out of her at once. "You're so insecure already about our relationship, I wasn't going to add to that! For all I know, you'd accuse me of lying to you and one of those random civilians being their father!"

"Maybe if you'd told me when these men started coming forward there would've been no reason for me to be suspicious now!" he shouts back, and her heart drops to hear the accusatory tone. "Are they my children?!"

"Yes, you idiot, they're your children, I shouldn't have to tell you this again!" They're both shouting, their first real fight since they properly became friends, and she knows people in the party will be able to hear them but she can't bring herself to care. "Don't you trust me?!"

"Of course I trust you, I love you!" The irritated noise she lets out makes anger flash in Vision's eyes. "Why are you picking a fight now? In a public place?"

"Because I don't think we're ready to have these babies!" she shouts. "We slept together once and somehow that changed our lives forever. I never wanted to become a mother at twenty, and I don't know if you really want to be a father  _ever_! We haven't even been dating for ten weeks! How can we have a family in a relationship that's so new?!"

"I  _asked_  you to marry me!" he shouts, and she rolls her eyes. "You said  _no_! I want to be with you, Wanda, and I want our babies with us! Do you want that?"

"I don't know anymore!" she shouts, and he falls dead silent. As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she wishes she could take them back, watching the tears begin shining in his eyes and his face crumpling.

" _Fine_ ," he says, so much gut-wrenching emotion in one syllable that she starts crying with no warning, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Then maybe you should go think about that. Maybe we shouldn't stay together for the rest of today."

"Vision, please,  _please_ , I shouldn't have said it, please don't leave," she sobs out, but he turns on his heel and walks away, each footstep splintering her heart a little more. "Vizh, come  _back_ , let's talk this out!"

"There's nothing to talk about," he says, barely looking at her, voice dull. "I know that I love you and I love our sons. You're the one who needs to think."

"I don't, I  _don't_ , I love you!" she shrieks, high-pitched with emotion, hardly able to breathe through her crying. But he still turns away, leaves her standing in the corridor alone, wrapping her arms around her bump and sobbing so hard she's almost bent double.

"Wanda?" Blinking away the tears, she looks up at Tony, Pepper at his side, looking down at her with concern. "What's going on?"

"Not now, Tony," she says, trying to push past him, but he takes her arm and spins her around, eyes searching her face for answers. "Let me go, I need to talk to Vizh! We had a stupid fight, it's all my fault, please let me go talk to him, he thinks I don't love him, and I  _do_ , I love him so much..." She trails away into further tears, and Tony grips her arm a little tighter to help her straighten up.

"Happy," he says, and she hears footsteps, looks up at the man she recognises as only Tony's personal driver, "would you drive Wanda back to the compound?"

"No, you don't understand!" she protests, voice broken with crying. "I have to talk to Vizh  _now_ , I messed up, I have to make up with him, I can't have him mad at me!"

"You had a fight, it happens," Tony says soothingly. "You both need to cool off. Go back to the compound, change out of that uncomfortable dress you've been fidgeting with all morning, eat something and lie down. Vision can hang around with us until this shindig is done, give him a chance to think about things."

"But what if he decides he doesn't love me anymore?!" she wails, and bristles when Tony smiles.

"Kid, there is not a single thing you could say or do that would make Vision decide to stop loving you," he says, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Now go home. Sitting down here crying isn't going to do you or those babies any favours."

Once back in the compound, alone as soon as she waves Happy away, she sheds the dress, leaving it in a tangled pile on her floor and getting back into her pyjamas. Fidgeting with the fabric of her T-shirt, one of Vision's old ones, probably worn rarely if ever, she cups a hand to her belly to feel her children kick. The babies she's having with a man she might have just ruined her relationship with.

Her day slips away in fitful sleep and crying softly into her pillow.

* * *

A burst of tipsy laughter from the kitchen makes Vision start where he's sitting alone by the chess board, fidgeting with the pieces. He knows he has to go speak with Wanda, has known it every minute since they got back from Stark Tower, but he can't bring himself to do it yet. He's too ashamed, wincing each time he remembers what he said in the heat of the moment, the memory of her starting to cry because of him so painful.

"Vision." He looks up to Stark in the doorway, looking at him with pity in his gaze. "Why aren't you in your room? I thought you and Wanda would've already talked it out and be having super loving make-up sex by now."

"She was asleep when I looked in, didn't want to disturb her," he lies dutifully, and Stark arches an eyebrow at him. "I don't know what to do. What she said about us not being able to provide for the babies just keeps going round and round in my head. We  _can't_  provide for them. The Accords mean we're not really Avengers anymore. We don't have a steady income or our own home."

"Hey, man, this is your home, always, whenever you need it," Stark insists. "SHIELD pays you guys. And if you ever run into trouble, I'll help." When Vision looks up at him, startled, he says, "Look, Vision, I honestly have more money than I'll ever know what to do with. Helping out you and Wanda would be no trouble at all."

Only able to smile at him in gratitude, Vision looks down at the black and white squares again, nerves twisting in his gut. "I know that look," comes Barton's voice, and he looks up to see him leaning against the doorway, eyes slightly glazed from an excess of free champagne, smiling more genuinely at Vision than he probably ever has. "You've got the dad-to-be jitters, don't you, Vision?"

"You could say that, Clint," he says, and Stark snickers. "You could say that I'm terrified and I don't know the first thing about parenting and I have three months at best to figure it out. You could say that I keep waking up in the night thinking that my sons are going to hate me."

"Let me drop a huge knowledge bomb on you, Vision," Clint says, taking careful steps to sit next to him - the first time he ever voluntarily has. "No one knows what they're doing. You can read all the books and go to all the classes and do all the googling you want, but then you've got this tiny squirmy little human in your arms and nothing makes sense but everything does at the same time. Know what I mean? Honestly, Vision, you just kinda muddle through and find out what works for you two. Babies are way less breakable than people think. Cooper must've whacked his head off our coffee table at least ten times when he started crawling, and the kid's fine!"

"I've never even held a baby," Vision says quietly, and a look comes across Barton's face as if he's just realised the meaning of life.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this yet!" he exclaims. "Okay, Nate's not exactly a baby anymore, but I don't have a convenient newborn. It's mine and Laura's wedding anniversary in two weeks - do you and Wanda want to babysit? My kids miss Wanda a lot, they've been begging to see her since Laura told them she's pregnant, and they used to love hearing her stories about you way back when, before you guys were a couple. How 'bout it?"

"Thank you, Clint," Vision says quietly. "I...will go and talk to Wanda and ask her."

"Godspeed!" Barton shouts as Vision sets the chess piece he's been fidgeting with down, takes a deep breath to gather himself and goes to Wanda's door, knocking gently.

"Wanda?" he calls out softly, silence on the other side of the door. "Wanda, darling, it's me. Can I come in?"

Quick footsteps on the other side of the door, and the door flies open to her tear-stained face, her eyes swollen and rimmed with red, and she throws her arms around his neck and presses her face into his chest, shoulders shaking with new sobs. "I'm sorry," she cries into his sweater, as he wraps his arms tightly around her and walks them backwards into her room, kicking the door shut behind them and hugging her properly, resting his chin on the top of her head and trying to blink back his own tears. "I'm  _so_  sorry, Vizh, I shouldn't have said it, it was the heat of the moment, I didn't mean it! Of course I want our children and I want  _you_ , there was just this reporter, he was awful, he kept asking me all these things that made me feel like such a bad mother for wanting to keep them-"

"Was his name Adam?" Vision asks, and feels her nodding against his chest. "Security kicked him out. He's a gossip columnist, surprised Mr. Wilson and Captain Rogers to ask which one of them was the father." Kissing the top of her head at another broken sob, he says, "I'm so sorry, Wanda. I shouldn't have left you like that, I just-"

"Needed to cool off, I understand," she finishes for him, clutching him a little tighter. "I was so scared, Vizh. I thought I'd gone too far. I thought you wouldn't love me anymore."

Lifting her chin to gaze into her eyes, smoothing his thumb over her cheek to wipe away her tears, he promises. "There is  _nothing_  you could do that would make me not love you anymore. I love you more than anyone has ever loved anyone, Wanda."

"Are you going to propose?" she asks, and he sees the hint of a teasing smile on her lips, and chuckles wetly, bending his head to kiss her, cupping a hand over her bump to feel the kicking from their children. "Oh  _God_ , I love you too. I don't want to fight."

"Neither do I," he says. "I hate seeing you cry, darling. We're both just worried about the babies, and whether we're ready. And maybe we're not. But Clint says that everything will make sense when we meet our children. And Tony offered financial support if we need it."

"Thank God for being friends with a billionaire," she murmurs, and he laughs. "And you're talking to Clint? Are you two finally getting along?!"

"Perhaps," he says reluctantly, and she beams up at him. "He's asked if we want to babysit his children while he takes his wife out for their wedding anniversary in two weeks. Says they miss you and have been looking forward to seeing you since they were told you're pregnant."

"Tell him yes!" she says eagerly. "I haven't seen Nate in months, he'd only just started crawling last time." She smiles up at him, eyes bright with happiness rather than tears. "I love you, Vision. I promise that I won't try to keep any of the stupid things people say about us from you anymore."

"I love you too," he promises. "And I promise to trust you completely and try not to doubt that you love me."

"It's going to take work for us to be happy together," she says, and he nods, gaze dropping to her lips "But you're worth it, babe."

"You are too, darling," he breathes, and kisses her hard, pulling her against him, her soft gasp making desire spike hot in his chest. Pulling away from her lips, her soft whine at the loss of contact undeniably arousing, he starts kissing a path down her neck, listening to her breathing going shallow, and between kisses says, "So, how would you feel if I have changed my mind about waiting until the babies are born to have sex?"

"Oh thank  _God_ ," she breathes, and pulls him away from the door towards the bed, pushing him down and climbing on top of him, kissing him so needily he can hardly breathe, let alone speak. Running her hand down his chest, she tugs at the hem of his sweater and simply says, "Off," tugging her own shirt up over her head and tossing it aside.

"You said that Doctor Flack said there's no risk to the babies," he says after phasing out of his shirt, watching her pupils dilate with desire as she looks at him.

"Absolutely none," she says reassuringly. "Just go slow."

"I'm not the one in this relationship who insists on hard and fast," he teases, and she smacks at his shoulder, affecting an offended expression. Pulling her in to kiss her, tracing his fingers up her spine to the clasp of her bra, he softly says, "I've been dreaming about this since you had to leave for Lagos."

"Then you better make your dream come true," she says, and he grins up and kisses her, muffling her moan against his mouth as he slides his hands lower.

He loses himself in her, the way she makes him feel, the whispered 'I love you's they exchange with almost every breath, the warmth of her skin and the softness of her lips each time she kisses him, each time she whispers his name like it's the only word she knows how to say. When it's over, his ears still ringing and his head spinning, she climbs off him and curls into his side, tracing her fingers across lines of vibranium on his chest as they lie in contentment as the minutes pass by. After twenty minutes of quiet but for the occasional nudge of a kick against the hand he has resting on her bump, he turns his head to meet her eyes and she smiles giddily. "Even better than I remember," he says softly, and she giggles, leaning over to kiss him.

"We're doing that more often," she says. "Pregnancy or not."

"Well," he says, sliding his hand down her side, watching a smirk curl the corner of her mouth, "what if we did it right now?"

"Have I mentioned today how much I love you?" she murmurs, and he grins at her and pulls her into an open-mouthed kiss, wrapping his arms around her as she slides back into his lap.


	5. we'll give the world to you

**A/N:** Apologies that it's been such a long time since I updated this fic! But I hope this extra-long final chapter was worth the wait and you all enjoy it! Please leave me a comment if you do, and I hope this journey has been enjoyable for readers as it has been for me writing!

* * *

"All I am saying, Wanda, is that we both know Clint doesn't like me and it's incredible that he didn't withdraw this offer after the effects of the Stark Tower gala champagne wore off," Vision says, steering the car through the boundaries of the Barton farm, and Wanda rolls her eyes affectionately, reaching across the gear shift to squeeze his thigh.

"Maybe Clint is trying to set aside your differences," she says, and catches a split-second of an incredulous look on Vision's face. " _Babe_ , don't be childish. You and Clint are both important to me. It would make me really happy if you two started getting along instead of being passive aggressive."

"He started it," Vision says petulantly, and she shakes her head at him. "He  _did_. I was just trying to fit in and the very first time he visited the compound he decided to pick a fight with me. And he's never fully explained  _why_!"

"Well, Vizh, he told Nat who told me that he caught you staring at my ass in a training session," Wanda says, and Vision opens and closes his mouth several times, eyes darting in every direction but meeting hers. Leaning as close as she can, seatbelt cutting into her bump, she presses a kiss to his shoulder and murmurs, "Nice to know I wasn't the only one staring."

"If it really is important to you that I try to get along with Clint, I will," Vision says, and she beams up when he turns to look at her, giving her a small, bashful smile. "But I think he simply made this offer in a moment of weakness and was too embarrassed to withdraw it."

"How is it that you can see the best in everything and everyone except Clint?" she teases, and he looks away from her, glaring at the entrance to the farmhouse. "He's almost as big a part of my life as you are, Vizh. I don't want to spend the rest of my life having to bridge the gap between you two."

"Then I'll try to at least be civil with him," he promises, and she grins and cups a hand to his cheek, turning his head to kiss him. "But I can't do anything if he refuses to put the effort in."

"Don't worry, babe, Laura will keep him in line," she promises, and Vision finally smiles, leaning into another lingering kiss, making Wanda wish she hadn't slept through most of the morning and missed out on the opportunity to keep him in bed.

He breaks the kiss first, opens his door and rounds the car to help her to her feet, steadying her as she stands and adjusts herself, pressing a hand to her aching back. "Being parents better be as magical as everyone says for how much the boys are hurting me," she murmurs in annoyance, but can't help smiling at how Vision's eyes soften at the mention of their children, his hand cupping over her bump.

"I'll see what I can do to help after we have the children settled," he says softly, and she curls the corner of her mouth up in a smirk, arching an eyebrow at him. "I was suggesting a massage and heat packs, darling. Stop letting your thoughts stray."

"Then stop being sexy," she retorts, brushing a kiss to his shoulder before moving away to collect her belongings from the backseat, grinning as she watches the way he stares briefly into the distance before collecting himself. It sends a thrill through her, that she can still have that effect on him, even after the last few weeks of enjoying each other at every given opportunity.

Wrapping their bags in scarlet magic to lift them out of the car, slamming the door shut and smirking at the way Vision still appears dazed, she slides her fingers between his and lifts his hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles and smiling angelically up at him. "Vizh? Honey, we kinda have to go inside to babysit. Stop letting your thoughts stray."

"Then stop being sexy," he whispers, and she giggles and raises her head to kiss him, enjoying the desire weaving its way through his thoughts.

Hands linked, in their own world now rather than any kind of world that tries to burst the bubble of their happiness with its own hatred, Wanda tugs him across the rough ground to the door, ringing the bell and winding his arm around her, smiling at a kiss dropped to the top of her head. The door is jerked open by Lila, tilting her head up at Wanda and then grinning. "Daddy! Wanda's here!"

"Hey munchkin!" Wanda says sweetly, letting the bags drop to the ground to return Lila's hug as best she can without being able to bend down to her level. "I missed you!"

"We missed you too!" Lila says, gazing up at Wanda with her eyes bright. "Why didn't you come and visit when you got out of prison? Daddy said you would!"

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I had so much to do to get ready for my babies," Wanda says, and Lila's gaze drops to her bump in amazement. "Remember? Your dad told you all about how I'm pregnant." Taking Vision's hand, giving him an adoring smile, she says, "Remember Vision, Lila? He came with me to meet Nate just after he was born."

"I heard Daddy telling Mommy that Vision is an idiot and should've used protection," Lila says brightly, and Wanda tries not to let her reaction show on her face. "But I think you're cool, Vision. Wanda used to tell us lots of stories about you!"

"Where is your dad, Lila?" Wanda asks, an edge to her voice, and straightens herself up when Clint appears in the hallway. "Hello, Clinton. I hear you've been telling your lovely wife that my boyfriend is an idiot and should've used protection."

Clint immediately pales, swallowing thickly. "Lila just misheard," he says, and Wanda arches an eyebrow at him. "Anyway, you two better come in, get warm, get settled! Laura's upstairs with Nate, he wanted to help Mommy get fancy."

"But Daddy, you did tell Mommy that Vision is an idiot!" Lila pipes up, and Clint steers his daughter into the front room, giving Wanda a pandering smile.

"Kids!" he exclaims with a slight shrug. "They just don't understand grown-up talk! Come on in, you two, you both look great, so ready to look after this lot, you're going to do a great job, great practice for your kids!" Turning away from them, he shouts, "Coop! Get down here and come say hello to Wanda!"

"Where are you taking your wife tonight, Clint?" Vision asks, and Wanda ducks her head to hide a smirk at the edge to Vision's voice, matching her own. "Somewhere special, I hope. After all, you two have three pieces of evidence to prove that you were also an idiot who didn't use protection."

"Okay, Jesus, God, I'm sorry I called you an idiot," Clint says, and Wanda gives him a sharp nod of approval. "I am really happy for you two, I swear. And I'm very grateful to have someone to come take care of the kids for the night, especially since I'm also helping you two get ready to have your babies." Having the grace to look ashamed, he adds, "And if it makes you feel better, this was before Wanda came back to the compound and I saw that you really do love her, Vision. And Laura told me off for saying it."

"That I did," comes Laura's voice for the staircase, and Wanda turns a smile towards her, carrying Nate on her hip and giving Clint a pointed look. "We wouldn't have this little guy if you hadn't also been an idiot who didn't use protection."

"Da!" Nate coos, and Wanda smiles to see how Clint's face simply lights up as Laura passes their son to him, Nate giggling in delight as his father hugs him. Vision's arm slides around her a little tighter, and she looks up to see him also watching Clint, and a lump grows in her throat at the thought that soon enough Vision will have their sons to hold like that, smile at their children with as much love in his gaze as Clint looking at Nate.

"You look fantastic, Wanda," Laura says, breaking Wanda out of her reverie and stopping her eyes from continuing to sting with tears. "I couldn't believe it when Clint told me you were pregnant, especially with twins, I'm so excited for you! And you look like you're handling it so well!"

"Well, I have the most supportive, perfect baby daddy in the world to thank for that," she says, and Vision smiles down at her and softly kisses her forehead.

"I'm sure your baby daddy didn't end up hysterically sobbing at your first ultrasound to the point where your obstetrician almost had to call the doctor in," Laura says, slanting a pointed look at Clint.

"I thought we agreed we would stop telling that story when Cooper turned ten," Clint says with a roll of his eyes, and Laura gives him an angelic smile.

"I was talking about the first ultrasound with Nate, sweetheart," she says, and Wanda giggles. "I'm sure Natasha will confirm, since she watched the kids and you ended up crying on her shoulder."

"Very funny," Clint says sarcastically. "Now, if you will all excuse me, I have to go and change so I can take my lovely wife of seventeen years out for a nice meal and an evening in a fancy hotel. Though I don't know why I'm doing this for a woman who tells my friends these stories."

"You know you love me," Laura teases him, and Wanda smiles softly at them when she watches Clint shake his head and lean down to kiss Laura, Nate balanced on his hip. Looking at them, she sees a simple illustration of exactly what she wants for herself. The children, the happy marriage, the quiet home set away from the craziness of the world she works in. And as Vision's hand cups over her bump and his lips brush against her temple, she knows that he's seeing the same thing. A shared dream.

Setting Nate down on the crumpled rug with a kiss brushed to his forehead, Clint disappears up the stairs, Laura watching him with love clear in her eyes until he disappears out of sight, then turning to Wanda and Vision with a business-like look on her face. "Okay, so, the quick rundown about how we manage our kids," she says, then glances down at Wanda's belly. "Actually, come through, sit down, take the weight off your feet. I remember this stage being awful, and I only had one baby in there."

The front room genuinely appears like a family of five lives here, Lila crouched on the rug peering at the instructions for a LEGO model, and when Nate successfully toddles into the room he immediately crawls over to a pile of blocks in the corner, bashing two together until Laura extracts them from his grasping fingers. "Meant to hide those before you two got here," she says casually, ignoring Nate pouting at her as she boxes the blocks up and picks him up, setting him in her lap as she sits down in the armchair.

Curling up to Vision, despite how stiffly he's sitting, unsure of this new environment, setting her head on his shoulder, Wanda thrills to see Laura's soft smile watching them before she blinks and turns back to business. "I've left a few ready meals in the fridge, let the kids pick what they want, and there's ice cream in the freezer if they behave themselves," she says, and Lila turns at the mention of ice-cream, giving Wanda an angelic smile. Somehow able to remain undistracted by Nate playing with her bracelets, Laura continues, "Lila needs to be in bed by half past eight. Do you hear that, Lila? That's half an hour later than usual, specially because Wanda and Vision are here."

"Yes, Mommy," Lila says sweetly.

"Cooper should be in bed by half past nine, but it's not a disaster if he won't go until ten," Laura says. "He's promised he'll wake up to let the chickens out and help make breakfast, we got everything you'll need for pancakes as a treat. Start getting Nate ready for bed around half past seven, Lila likes to help with the bath and choosing his pyjamas. His sleeping has been a bit iffy lately, but hopefully he'll sleep through for you two. Just make sure he has his blanket and the little stuffed bat, Nat got it for him when he was born and he still can't sleep without it. If he does wake up, just go through and quiet him down if he cries and talk to him, he likes that. I moved the baby monitor into the spare room for you two, but honestly it's just a precaution, he'll be fine."

Blinking at the sheer amount of information, processing it all, Wanda takes a moment to notice that Laura's expression has turned to a reassuring smile. "I know it all sounds like a lot, but it's not," she says, bouncing Nate on her knee. "The kids know what they're doing, and you'll figure it out." Gently unwrapping Nate's fingers from around her necklace, she says, "Can you say Wanda, baby?"

Nate stares at Wanda for a moment, then looks up at Laura with confusion in his eyes. "Wa?" he asks, and Wanda giggles helplessly, Vision's arm tightening around her.

"Here, Wanda, you can hold him," Laura says, setting Nate down on the couch next to Wanda and leaving the room. A moment later, Lila trails out of the room after her mother, leaving Wanda alone with Vision and Nate staring at her.

"How old is he?" Vision asks as Wanda lifts Nate onto her knee, smiling as he sets his hands curiously on her bump, babbling nonsense to himself.

"Sixteen months," she say, and turns her head to brush a kiss to Vision's shoulder. "Only a few weeks younger than you, babe." Smiling at Nate's curious face, moving his hands over her bump in apparent fascination, she says, "I remember meeting this little guy not long after Sokovia. Clint and Laura asked my permission to name him after Pietro."

"I remember seeing the photographs," Vision says, and when he speaks Nate looks up at him in surprise. "I must admit, I was still not sure of the appeal of babies. I understand more now how miraculous they are."

"Well I'd hope so, since we're gonna have two of them in ten weeks," she teases, and he smiles softly. Jogging Nate in her lap, she coos, "Can you say Vision, Nate?"

"Vee!" Nate says triumphantly after a long silence, and Wanda giggles, even Vision smiling at the toddler. Pointing decisively at Wanda, Nate says, "Wa!" before turning to Vision and saying, "Vee!"

"He's charming you," Wanda teases Vision, the warmth of joy swelling in her chest when she sees the way Vision is looking at Nate. "Wanna hold him?" Nerves cross Vision's face, his gaze moving away from Nate, and she reaches over to take his hand. "Don't be scared."

"But what if I hurt him?" he asks, eyes filled with worry, and she just shakes her head and shifts Nate in her lap. "What if I hold him and he just starts crying?!"

"Little kids respond to people based on instinct," she says, smiling when Nate starts babbling to himself again, patting her bump in satisfaction. "You're not a bad person, so he won't cry. And you won't hurt him."

Vision shifts and opens his arms, and she sets Nate carefully in his lap, emotion choking her when she sees him relax into holding Nate. "Hello," he says, and Nate just tilts his head curiously at the unfamiliar voice. Smiling at the new person in the very limited world of a toddler, Nate stares at the soft, subtle glow of the mind stone for a moment, reaching a tiny hand up to grab for it, and Vision pushes his hand back down. "Not for kids," he says gently, and Nate pouts at him. "See, we don't really know how it works. And if you touch it and you get hurt your mother will never speak to me again." As Nate continues to gaze at the mind stone, the yellow glow reflected in his wide eyes, Vision smile slights and says, "You look a lot like your mother, Nathaniel."

"But Clint's nose," Wanda says softly, realising when she speaks that her words are tremulous with trying not to cry. When she blinks, tears spill over, streaking silvery down her face, and Vision turns to her with such touching concern on his face. "I'm fine. Damn hormones."

"He's lovely," Vision says, and when Nate smiles he smiles back, and a high-pitched fragment of a sob escapes Wanda. "I...I like this. Holding him."

"You'll have our babies to hold soon," she says through another sob, and Vision puts an arm gently around her and drops a kiss on her forehead. "You're a natural. He likes you."

"I like him," he says, and she cups a hand to his cheek to turn his head for a kiss.

"Oh, that's so sweet." Laura's voice in the doorway breaks Wanda out of her moment, dabbing at her tear-filled eyes and giving her a watery smile. "You guys almost look like a family!" Ushering Lila in the room, she turns on her heel and shouts, "Clint?! Sweetheart, you said the reservation was at seven! We need to leave in  _five minutes_!"

"I know, I know, I'm almost ready!" Wanda giggles at Clint's yell from upstairs, doubly so when Laura dramatically rolls her eyes.

" _Men_ ," she sighs. "Always waiting until the last minute to start getting ready! And he has the audacity to complain that I take too long!"

"I heard that!" Clint bellows, and Vision smiles the way he does when he's holding back laughter, and Wanda curls into him, resting her hand on her bump and watching Lila absorbed in her book where she's hunched over in the armchair.

Clint emerges from the staircase a minute or so later, holding his hands out in a gesture of helpless surrender when Laura glares at him. Rolling her eyes at her husband, Laura bends down to kiss Cassie's forehead, and affectionately ruffles Nate's hair. "You guys are gonna be good for Wanda and Vision, right?" she says, and Cassie nods. "Nate? Baby, are you gonna be good?"

"'Es," Nate says, and Wanda can't help but melt over how adorable he is.

Smiling, Laura drops a kiss on the top of Nate's head and looks up at Wanda to say, "We can't thank you two enough. If this lot get too fussy, just give us a call and we'll come back to deal with them. And if anything happens with your babies, call an ambulance  _then_  call us, not the other way round."

"We'll be  _fine_ , Laura," Wanda insists, and sets a soothing hand on Vision's knee. "Nothing is going to happen with these babies. They're not due for another ten weeks."

"Lila was four weeks early, nearly drove Clint to early retirement he was so stressed," Laura says, turning a teasing smile on her husband.

"Alright, I'm not staying around all night for all you so-called adults to insult me," Clint says. "Take care of the kids, kiddo. And yourself. Honestly, if anything feels wrong, just go to the hospital."

"Says the man who rushed me to the hospital three times with Braxton Hicks contractions when I was pregnant with Cooper," Laura says, rolling her eyes fondly, and Clint looks mutinous. "Goodnight, babies, we'll be back before lunchtime tomorrow. Be nice to Wanda, remember she's having two babies so she's twice as tired as I was when I was pregnant with Nate."

"She fell asleep at the dinner table!" Lila pipes up gleefully, and Clint smirks when Laura shakes her head, shrugging into her coat.

Left alone in Clint's house, taking care of his children, feels like stepping into the life Wanda once thought she would never have. The comfort of the farmhouse, with pieces of wood scattered everywhere from yet another of Clint's home improvement projects and the carpet in the front room and the tiles in the dining room covered in toys, signs of a family that lives in this house. Slotting a macaroni and cheese for the children into the oven, smiling when Vision leans up over her to heat up her pre-prepared dinner from her meal plan - which he insists on her sticking ever more rigorously to the closer her due date gets - she watches Lila with Nate, helping him build a tower of blocks and both of them giggling when it crashes down.

She'd have loved another sibling. To not be the youngest one, even if it was only by twelve minutes. To have someone to watch over the way Pietro watched over her. There were others when she was living on the streets, younger boys and girls, but she was too reliant on Pietro, and they looked after the younger ones together. Setting a hand on her bump while Vision coaxes Lila and Nate away from their games to eat, she wonders if she might be able to give her boys the sibling she never had. They still don't have a concrete answer for the science behind the miraculous conception of their children - it's easiest to simply believe it was biology. Which means that perhaps they could have more children one day. Planned ones.

After dinner is over, Lila and Cooper both beaming over their small bowls of ice cream where they're sitting in front of the television set, Wanda takes Nate up to bed. Alone with him, she's overwhelmed by the miracle that he is, blinking at her with Laura's eyes, dark downy hair so soft beneath her fingers. Dressing him carefully for bed, tears spring to her eyes when he brushes his hand against her bump. "Wa-da," he says softly, and gives her a smile.

"Good job, little guy," she says, voice thick with emotion. "You wanna go to bed?"

"No!" Shaking her head at the response, helplessly smiling because it's still cute, she lifts him up and sets him in his crib. The stuffed bat Laura specified is already waiting on the pillow, and she smiles when Nate grabs for it immediately, rubbing the felt against his cheek and yawning.

Pulling the blanket up over him, tracing the embroidered stars tracing over the deep blue, she brushes her fingers against Nate's temple in what she hopes he'll feel as an affectionate gesture, marvelling at how soft and warm his skin is. "Goodnight, little guy," she breathes, so happy and yet so sad at the same time watching his eyelids flutter closed.

Within an hour, Lila has drifted to bed too, and Cooper is in his room and quiet, leaving Wanda to curl up next to Vision on the couch, adjusting herself to try and ease the ache in her back. "Still hurting?" Vision asks softly, and she grits her teeth and nods. "Here. Let me help."

She leans back into his touch when his hands smooth over the knotted muscles in her shoulders, relaxing into the soft kiss he presses to the back of her neck and the feeling of his lips curving in a smile against her skin. "You know you're getting good at that," she says, and feels the proud satisfaction rippling out from his mind. "I'll miss this when the twins are born."

"Maybe I'll still be able to give you massages," he says softly. "Just not as often. We'll be so busy, with two newborns to take care of."

Adjusting herself on the couch to accommodate sitting comfortably with the weight of her bump, she sighs and asks, "Do you think it's just the way Clint and Laura say? That it won't be that complicated when we actually have our babies? They just...they have so many  _rules_ , they know their kids so well, and I...I don't know if I can be that for a baby. Let alone two."

"You will," he says softly, reassuring warmth in every syllable. "We'll learn together what our sons are like. We'll learn to be there for them in the way they need. You must know them already, right? Can you feel anything from them?"

Closing her eyes, still sinking into his hands smoothing over her aching muscles, she reaches into her own consciousness and finds the two warm glows of light that represent her sons' minds. "Not thoughts," she whispers, the moment so quiet and content. "Just impressions. Colours. Feelings. I...I can see that they love me."

"Of course they do," Vision says, brushing a kiss over her shoulder. "You've protected them. You've let them grow. You lied to protect them and you've defended them against society. They're lucky to have you as a mother."

"And you for a father," she says, and reaches for the hand kneading at her back, turning carefully around to face him and curving his fingers over her bump. "Look."

Reaching out for Vision's familiar mind, glowing in a way she recognises in the mind of their children, she concentrates hard enough to link the four of them together, and smiles at Vision through the tears suddenly veiling her eyes. "Can you feel them?" she asks, and he nods, eyes filled with wonder. "See. They're so happy."

Vision slides off the couch onto his knees, gently pulling her shirt up over her bump and pressing a kiss to her bare skin. "Hello," he breathes, single word hitching in the middle with a sob. "Wanda, I...I  _see_  them."

"They know you," she says, her own tears spilling over as the first streaks silvery down Vision's cheek. "Say something to them."

"I..." Tracing his hands over her belly, seemingly lost for words, Vision clears his throat, tears glinting on his cheeks, and says, "I can't wait to meet you."

"Did you see the way their minds lit up?" she asks, and he nods, shoulders shuddering with his semi-silent sobs, and she smiles at the warm glow of the three minds she's connected to, all so bright with joy. "They know their daddy."

Vision sobs out loud, splintered and high-pitched, and presses a lingering kiss to her bump before leaning up to kiss her lips, deep and passionate. "They love you," she breathes out when he breaks the kiss. "They love us."

"I love you," he says, and kisses her again before she can reply.

* * *

Adjusting his collar in the mirror, Vision watches his reflection smile when Wanda says, "You look gorgeous," from the bed. Turning on his heel, he crosses their room to move her breakfast tray and adjust her pillows, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "That look is  _wasted_  on Secretary Ross."

"You're sure you're okay with me going to this meeting?" he asks, searching her face for answers, wishing he could read her as easily as she reads him, that she didn't have the armour of years spent on the streets that she still hasn't peeled away.

She shrugs helplessly and says, "I understand that you have to go and talk to politicians in suits about the Accords. You're helping to change the world."

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks quietly, and for a moment she breaks eye contact and he knows what she truly wants to say. "Wanda, darling, I don't have to go. Secretary Ross will understand. If you want me to stay, for the babies, I-"

"No, go, I'll be fine," she says, and he sighs. "These babies aren't due for eight weeks. Everyone is still here to help me."

"We'll only be gone a few hours at most," he reassures her, setting a hand on her bump and smiling helplessly at a nudge into his palm from one of their sons. "If anything happens, call me straight away. Or call the office we're going to. Please."

"You worry too much," she teases, and smiles at him. "Go, or you'll be late."

"I love you," he says, and she grins and pulls him in for a gentle kiss.

"I love you too," she says sweetly, and leans back on her pillows. "Now go. I have trashy daytime TV to watch."

Pressing a last kiss to her forehead, he reluctantly leaves her alone, sliding the door almost closed behind him just in case she needs to shout for help and joining Stark, Rhodes and Romanoff in the entryway, watching the sleek government-sanctioned car pulling up in the driveway. "You ready for this?" Stark asks, and chuckles at whatever expression flashes across Vision's face. "Yeah, me too."

"It's all a negotiation game," Rhodes says, shrugging into his coat and winding his scarf around his neck. "We have our guidelines, all we have to do is not budge on them longer than Ross refuses to budge on his."

"We just need to get enough adjustments to the Accords past Ross that the rest will sign them and this will all be easier, and we won't have to stay cooped up together like this," Romanoff says, the last words spoken before she walks out of the door to the stone-faced driver waiting for them.

Arriving to Ross' office is a shock to the system, when most previous negotiation regarding the Accords has been done in the compound conference room, or over the phone and exclusively between Ross and Stark. Glancing in the tinted window of the car to make sure his tie is still lying perfectly straight, Vision follows exactly what the other three do, walking through the metal detector and reluctantly turning off his phone after sending Wanda a text to explain that he has to and signing the correct forms and waiting, feeling uncomfortable under the piercing gaze of Ross' secretary.

"Secretary Ross will see you now," comes the order after twenty minutes of tense silence, and Vision files into the meeting room with his teammates, Ross waiting for them as pristine as usual at the head of the table.

"Wonderful to see you, Mr. Secretary," Stark says, and Vision admires his ability to sound so charming and yet have a layer of contempt running beneath the pandering respect. "How is the job treating you?"

"It'll be a lot easier once we have these issues with the Sokovia Accords straightened out, Mr. Stark," Ross says, and sets the thick text that constitutes the Accords down on the table with a jarring thud. "Colonel Rhodes, Ms. Romanoff, Vision, please sit down. We may be here a while."

Without the language of negotiation in his head or the necessary investment in the situation to argue as passionately as Stark and Romanoff do, Vision's mind wanders through the meeting, its destination thinking of Wanda and their sons. She's thirty-two weeks pregnant, and no matter how terrifying the prospect of caring for a premature baby - let alone two - is, according to Doctor Flack she'll be medically considered full term in five weeks, and the likelihood is that their boys will be born towards the end of November rather than in December as they should be. Five weeks to prepare to be a father. To set up the room that he's vacated to share Wanda's bed with cribs, ready to care for their children, having a family.

It's terrifying. To go from the person he was before he found out, sure of his love for Wanda and lost without her, miserable, to being this. With Wanda, he'll be everything to their newborn children, protector and encourager and role model. He already has so much love for his sons, and he hasn't seen much more of them than grainy black and white images on a screen in the hospital and their minds on the rare occasion Wanda has enough energy to connect the four of them. The idea of seeing them, as he imagines them, both the spitting image of Wanda, of feeling how his love for them grows when they're their own people and out in the dangers of the world, fills him with simultaneous excitement and bone-deep fear. To love someone as fiercely as he loves Wanda is to be vulnerable, and their world is a dangerous place for two young children who can't defend themselves, and he can only think of that.

"I don't think we need to debate further on the issue of Sergeant Barnes, Ms. Romanoff," Ross says, bringing Vision back to the moment and the formal meeting table and the muscle ticking in Stark's jaw. "He is settled and in the care of the best doctors we could find for his situation, and when he adjusts he can be gradually introduced back into modern society."

"I'd still appreciate more frequent updates, and perhaps visitation rights," Romanoff says, so blandly pleasant despite her oft-expressed frustration with the UN's attitude towards the Accords. "It would help to heal the cracks in team relations if you allow Rogers to see Barnes."

"I will contact my team and ask them to give more frequent updates on Sergeant Barnes' condition," Ross says. "We can revisit the issue of visitation in a few more months."

"That will be enough to encourage Steve to sign," Rhodes says, determined, and Vision can't help but notice the slight roll of his eyes that Stark gives him. "I doubt you'll have any trouble encouraging Clint or Sam or Scott to sign the amended document, Secretary, given Clint is mostly out of the game and Sam and Scott are enjoying being in it."

"We will of course respect Mr. Barton's decision to retire to take care of his family, his services will only be called upon in dire situations," Ross says, and Rhodes nods in satisfaction. "And what of Ms. Maximoff's attitudes to the Accords?"

"I'm afraid, Mr. Secretary, that Wanda has bigger things on her mind that the Accords right now," Stark says, a touch of contempt in his words. "The UN may not be keeping track of such things, but she is expecting twins in eight weeks. That's enough to keep anyone's mind off state affairs."

"And you assume to speak for Ms. Maximoff about this?" Ross asks coolly, and Vision sees Rhodes wince at Stark's expression.

"Perhaps you ought to ask the father of her children to speak for her," Stark says, and turns to Vision. "You have the floor."

"There isn't much else to say, Secretary Ross," Vision says with a helpless sort of shrug. "Wanda and I are focusing on our children for now, and for the foreseeable future. I'm afraid the Accords are a long way down on our list of priorities."

"Sadly, Vision, the Accords still hold jurisdiction over you and Ms. Maximoff, and any violation will be punished regardless of your children," Ross says, and Vision bristles in defense of his family.

"Then it's a good thing both of us will be stepping back from the field while our children are young, as negotiated with Mr. Stark and Ms. Romanoff as our team leaders," he says, trying not to betray his anger. "There won't be any need for us to revisit the Accords for a few months yet."

Ross opens his mouth to retort, in what would no doubt be a fierce rebuttal of every point Vision makes and an insistence that the Accords should be reviewed now, but a knock at the door distracts him. "Come in, Amanda," he calls out, and his secretary peers around the door, phone in hand.

"Apologies for the interruption, Secretary, but there's a call for Vision," she says, and Vision's blood runs cold. "Ms. Maximoff says she tried to get through on his cell but couldn't."

"Give me that," Vision insists, and snatches the phone from her hand. "Wanda?"

"Oh thank  _God_ ," she sobs out across the phone lines, and his fingers hurt he's clutching the phone so tightly. "I think...something's wrong, it  _hurts_ , and I can't get through to Emma because she's with another patient and I don't know what's going on and it can't happen  _now_ , they're too little, I...I'm sorry, I shouldn't do this, you're in a meeting, but-"

"I'm leaving right now, darling, I promise," he says, snatching his coat from the back of his chair, buttoning it one-handed while Romanoff and Stark and Rhodes all stare at him in concern. "Please, just...just breathe, please try not to panic. I'll be there soon."

"Thank you," she whispers. "I love you."

"I love you too," he says, and cuts off the call, handing the phone back to Ross' secretary and addressing the room when he says, "Apologies, but I have to go."

"Vision, this meeting is not over," Ross says, and the threat is clear in the way his eyes flash. "It's important that we get these negotiations over and done with as soon as possible."

"Wanda needs me," Vision says. "Nothing is more important that that."

"I hope she's okay," Stark says, in the split-second before Vision leaves, and he nods in acknowledgement of the concern before running out to the sidewalk, rising into the air and flying faster than he ever has, desperate to reach Wanda's side.

No one seems to be wandering around the compound, Barton and Lang and Rogers all presumably in their own rooms and cut off from the world, and Vision rushes to Wanda's room, heart pounding and panic clawing coldly at his throat. There are a thousand things that could be wrong, and every single one is spinning through his head, making him more and more terrified. He can't lose her. He can't lose their children. He loves them too much.

Jerking the door to their room open, he finds Wanda sitting up in bed just as he left her, a mug of tea on her nightstand and Lang sitting in the armchair watching her, concern in his gaze. "Are you alright, darling?" Vision asks as he rushes to her side, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head.

"I managed to get through to Emma about five minutes after I called you," she says, voice very small. "Turns out I panicked unreasonably."

"Don't say that," Lang says soothingly. "It was Braxton Hicks contractions, Vision. Scary if you don't recognise them for what they are. My ex had them pretty regularly for the last month when she was pregnant, we rushed to the emergency room a few times in a blind panic."

"Scott heard me crying, came in to calm me down," Wanda says, and Vision turns a smile on their newest teammate.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Lang says, grinning. "Anything to help out fellow parents. And now you know what they feel like, you'll recognise them if it happens again. And you'll be able to tell the difference between that and actually being in labour."

He leaves them alone, and Vision presses a frantic kiss to Wanda's lips, stroking her hair. "I was so scared," he says, voice shaking with suppressed emotion, and she blinks her swollen, red-rimmed eyes at him. "After I swore I'd never leave you again-"

"You have to go to meetings, Vizh, it's your job," she says. "The world doesn't stop just because I'm pregnant."

"I don't care about these meetings," he says, setting a hand over her bump. "They're a necessary evil. You and the boys are the most important thing to me. I'm not leaving you again. Not for anything. I don't want to miss any of this." Kissing her once more, gently, he tears up when he says, "This could be my only chance to have this. I want to experience everything."

"I've been thinking about that," she says, linking her fingers between his where his hand is resting on her belly. "There's no explanation for me getting pregnant other than the obvious one that we  _can_  have children. I don't think...if you want to, this doesn't have to be our only chance."

"You...you think we could have children after the boys?" he asks, and she nods, smiling up at him. "I don't know, Wanda. Perhaps this was just a miracle."

"Maybe," she says, shrugging slightly. "But I know I always wanted a younger sibling. If we can give our boys another sibling, I would want to try. Once they're old enough. And we have a stable lifestyle."

"When we're married?" he asks, and she smiles.

"When we're married," she assures him, squeezing his hand. "If we love being parents, and two isn't enough. My...my mother couldn't have any more children after me and Pietro. If I can, and we can conceive, I want to give my sons the one thing I always wanted."

"I think it sounds wonderful," he says, and she grins and pulls him in for a kiss. One interrupted by the harsh trill of Vision's phone, and he reluctantly pulls away to pick it up. "Hello?"

"Vision," comes Ross' voice, and Vision's hand tightens reflexively against Wanda's. "Is everything alright with Ms. Maximoff?"

"Yes, Secretary, she's fine," Vision says. "Thank you for asking."

"Then I'm sure you will be returning to this meeting," Ross says. "We have a lot more to discuss."

"No, Secretary, I will not be returning," Vision says, meaning every word, trying to be as polite as possible despite a surge of anger at the assumption. "I have to take care of my girlfriend and my children. That's more important that the Accords."

"Negotiations are not finished, Vision, and your girlfriend isn't due for another eight weeks," Ross says harshly. "You can leave her for a few hours to view a law that will change the world as you know it."

"I don't want to leave her," Vision says, and Wanda smiles at him. "My family is more important to me than anything, Secretary. I'm sure you understand, being a father yourself."

"Be that as it may, you have a job to do," Ross snaps. "We all do. And your duties have to be attended to."

"Unlike you, Secretary, I don't prioritise my job over my family," Vision says, and Wanda giggles at the contempt in his voice. "My sons could be born at any moment, and I don't plan to leave Wanda to cope alone. You will not be seeing me again until my children are old enough that I feel safe leaving them for a few hours. Goodbye."

Hanging up the phone regardless of Ross' spluttering, he turns back to Wanda, shaking her head slowly at him. "You're going to regret that," she says, and he bows his head and kisses her bump, running his hand over her skin and smiling at the familiar kick.

"I don't care," he says. "Ross can say whatever he wants. I want to be here for you more than anything else. Our family matters more than the Accords."

Wanda smiles at him, setting her hands on her bump and lowering her voice as she speaks directly to her belly. "Do you hear that, boys?" she asks, and Vision smiles at another nudge into his palm, their children recognising their mother's voice. "Your daddy says you're more important than life-changing legislation."

"You're more important than anything to me," he says softly, hoping that his sons have some kind of understanding of how much he loves them. "Except your mother."

"Our children are not calling me 'mother'," she says with a slight roll of her eyes. "I...I'm going to teach them to call me Mama. That's what I called my mother."

Seeing the slight gleam of tears in her eyes talking about her family, he leans up to press a kiss to her temple, giving her a reassuring smile. "They'll like that," he says, and she lets out a wet laugh.

"I don't think kids care what they call their parents," she says. "As long as their parents love them."

"And we love you," Vision says, kissing her bump, tears prickling hot behind his eyes. "We love you so much. We can't wait to meet you."

"But please stay put for a few more weeks," Wanda says, eyes glittering with humour, and Vision moves to put his arm around her, cradling her.

* * *

"And everything looks good to me, Wanda," Emma says, and Wanda breathes out all the tension of the appointment, Vision visibly relaxing at her side. "No signs of anything that might cause an issue. You're the picture of health."

"I have Vizh to thank for that," she says, squeezing Vision's hand and giving him a besotted smile, and Emma smiles. "Is there any way of telling when it's likely the babies might come?"

"You will probably deliver before forty weeks, but I don't see any red flags," Emma says, and strips off her gloves, pulling a chair up. "So how are you feeling?"

"A little uncomfortable," she admits, Vision's thumb sweeping a caress over the back of her hand. "The nausea's come back a little, first thing in the morning. It's mostly just  _heavy_."

"I remember that feeling," Emma says ruefully. "You're staying active, yes? As much as you can?"

"We're trying to walk around the compound grounds every day we can, if Wanda is able to walk without getting too short of breath," Vision says, helping her to sit up straight, hand lingering on her back. "And we've been trying to keep track of how often they're kicking."

"That's good, even if all you can get is an average," Emma says, and Wanda nods. "How are your birth classes going?"

"Really well, right babe?" Wanda says, and Vision nods and smiles. "We're the only couple expecting twins in the class, but it's been great. It's helped to calm this one down a little about actually getting the boys into the world."

"I worry about you, darling, I can't help it," he says, and she cranes over to kiss him, hospital gown crinkling as she does.

"I think everything will be just fine," Emma says, and gives them both a warm smile. "I'll see you two next week for another look at them, okay? And we'll talk about inducing if you get too uncomfortable, Wanda."

"Thank you, Doctor," Vision says, and Wanda clings to him to stand up when Emma leaves them alone. He smiles down at her, stroking her hair. "Less than seven weeks to go."

"It's cute that you're so excited," she says, raising her head to give him a quick kiss. "You finished setting up the cribs, right?"

"Did it last night while you were sleeping, Mr. Lang helped," he says, and she smiles as she pulls her shirt back over her head, tugging it as far down as it will go over her bump. "He was full of stories about his daughter as a baby. Made it sound simple."

"It will be," she promises him, and he helps her back into her coat, wrapping it carefully around her.

"I just hope it won't be too cold for them," he says anxiously, peering out of the frosty window at the grey day. "They'll be so  _little_."

"We have blankets and hats for them, Vizh, they'll be fine," she says, thinking of the full bag of clothes in the corner of her room, some ordered by her and Vision but mostly sent from companies eager to see the children of two Avengers outfitted in their clothes. "They'll be our winter babies."

Waving to Emma's other patients as they leave, she eases herself into the car and sleeps fitfully on the drive back to the compound, eyelids barely falling closed before she jerks awake again. Nights are difficult, with the babies kicking and how uncomfortable she is, trying not to give it away. Being pregnant with twins was always a terrifying prospect, and she's close to give birth to twins. Being a mother of twins. Every day she thanks her blessings that she has Vision at her side, so supportive and concerned and eager to help.

Walking back into the compound, she starts at the bellow of, "Surprise!" that greets her, the lights in the room flicking on to the entire team waiting. "What are you guys  _doing_?!" she gasps, hand at her mouth and tears in her eyes.

"Well we can't let our friends and teammates go through all this nonsense to have two babies and  _not_  give them a baby shower!" Sam exclaims, throwing her a cardboard party hat with a grin. "This is gonna be very lowkey, we know how tired you are, but we wanna do it for you!"

"We got presents!" Scott adds, waving his hand at the stack of boxes on the table. "And champagne! Not that you'll be drinking that. But you can open the presents!"

"You  _guys_ ," Wanda breathes, tears spilling over, and Vision puts an arm around her and kisses the top of her head, comforting her. "This is so  _sweet_!"

"You better get used to it, because we're all going to insist on showering you with gifts when those boys come into the world," Tony says, all smiles, and she starts crying in earnest, Vision cradling her into his chest and stroking her hair soothingly.

" _Tony_ , you didn't say she'd  _cry_!" Sam hisses, looking uncomfortable, and Wanda giggles through her tears, wiping her eyes.

"I'm crying over everything these days," she says, and eases herself down onto the couch, Vision staying faithfully at her side, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. "So whose present should I open first?"

Grabbing for the most clumsily-wrapped one, she smiles at Clint and says, "Yours, I'm guessing."

"I hate that everyone knows I'm terrible at wrapping," he grumbles, and Rhodey chuckles.

"It's shameful, Barton, really," he teases. "You've been married for seventeen years, you have three kids, and your wrapping still looks like a car ran over it."

"Shut up, Rhodes, I'm not a trained present wrapper!" he says, and Rhodey cocks an eyebrow at him.

"Clearly," he says, and the burst of laughter proves how far team relations have come, and Wanda smiles as she pulls the paper away and finds a baby monitor and five sets of ear plugs, smiling softly.

Shelling open a set of bath bombs from Natasha - "From what I've been told, you'll need all the relaxation time you can get with two newborns," said with a rueful grin - and a pair of matching knitted blankets from Steve, Wanda turns to the biggest box and glances up at Tony. "Sue me, I like spoiling people," he says with a shrug.

Untying the ribbon and carefully pulling the paper away, Wanda goes completely silent when she pulls the lid off the box, staring at the contents. "Every baby needs a first bear," Tony says, and the threat of tears renders Wanda speechless as she pulls the pairs of teddies out of the box. In each pair, one bear has green eyes, edged with scarlet, and dark fur and more glowing scarlet thread laced around their paws, and the other has deep red fur and an embroidered mind stone at the centre of their forehead and a yellow cape around their shoulders.

"Are these custom-made?" she asks, and her voice is barely more than a whisper, thick with emotion.

"I have contacts at a toy-making factory, and I made a few calls and managed to swing two pairs of custom bears for a special pair of babies," Tony says, shrugging as if it's nothing more than a mere day's work. "The designs took forever, they're not that great but it's the best we could do in the medium of teddy bears."

"You made these specially for our sons?" Vision asks, and he's clearly choked up too, as Wanda traces a fingertip over the finer details of each bear, already imagining tiny fingers clutching the fuzzy arm, a tiny head nestled on the stuffed belly of their first toy.

"They're  _amazing_ ," she breathes, and tears spill down her cheeks when she blinks, clutching the collection of bears against her belly. "Stark, I... _thank you_."

"Jesus, Tony, what is it with you and your pathological need to outdo everyone?" Rhodey asks drolly, shaking his head. "Now everyone else's presents are gonna look like crap in comparison.

"No!" she insists, frantically dabbing the tears off her cheeks. "They're all wonderful presents! You're all wonderful friends!"

"We try," Sam says, to a burst of laughter, and fills champagne glasses for everyone but Wanda, handing her a glass of lemonade instead. "So, we know that this pregnancy came at a difficult time for you two, and that it was a pretty bad set of circumstances at first. And that the media have been spreading their bullshit and trying to ruin your happiness. But here you are, and you've almost made it to the end. And we're all hoping and praying that you'll have a safe delivery and those twins will come into the world healthy, and it'll be quick and easy and relatively painless. So, all that to say - to you two. You're going to be fantastic parents."

Smiling through yet more tears, Wanda clinks her glass into the circle in a cheers, and leans against Vision's shoulder as the conversation begins to flow once more. She feels the curve of his smile against her skin when he kisses to her cheek, and he clinks their glasses gently together and whispers, "To us."

"To our family," she replies softly, and drinks what's left of her lemonade in a single swallow.

* * *

Glancing up from his book, looking away from the seemingly ridiculously long checklist on everything a healthy baby should be doing by six months old, Vision is gripped by fear seeing Wanda clutching at a chair to stay upright, her knuckles white she's gripping the edge so tightly. At the back of his mind, he counts up to forty seconds before she straightens up again, and that same part of his memory knows it's been seven minutes since she last paused in fussing around their room getting ready for bed.

"Wanda?" he asks gently, setting his book aside and sitting up straight in bed, and she looks over at him with her eyes filled with tears. "Is it the Braxton Hicks again?"

At the opportunity he gives her, she shakes her head, clutching a hand to her bump and starting to cry. "It  _hurts_ ," she sobs out, and he rushes out of bed to her side, wiping a tear away with his thumb and holding her close. "They can't come  _now_. It's too early!"

"We should take you to hospital," he says, and she nods, tear tracks glittering on her cheeks. "If the doctors say it's too early, they can do something to slow it down, remember? Let me get Mr. Stark, okay? He'll drive us."

"I want Clint too," she says, voice so small, and he nods, pressing a soothing kiss to her forehead. "Can you be quick?"

"Fast as I can," he promises, and reluctantly leaves her, practically sprinting down the corridor to Stark's workshop, banging on the door until Stark opens it, a metalwork mask over his face and dust on his clothes. "Wanda's in labour," Vision gasps out, and Stark immediately grits his teeth, throwing the mask aside.

"I'll go start the car," he says, and Vision nods before running to Barton's door, hammering his hands against it.

" _What_?!" Barton snaps when he jerks the door open, in his pyjamas and hair wild from sleep, only to pale several shades when he sees Vision waiting. "Wanda?"

"Hospital," Vision says, almost at a loss for words, and Barton slams the door shut to change, leaving Vision to run back to his room and find Wanda still tear-stained, but fully-dressed and waiting at the edge of the bed. "They're both coming, darling, we can go. We can get you to the hospital."

"Vizh, I...I don't think I can do this," she says, looking up at him with fear in her eyes that breaks his heart. "I can't...I can't  _do it_!"

"Yes you can," he insists, squeezing her hands tightly. "Everything's going to be fine, Wanda. I promise."

Grabbing the bag they already have packed, he slings it hastily over his shoulder and takes her hand, the two of them leaving their room and running almost directly into Barton, who stares at Wanda wide-eyed before running ahead of them towards the stairs down to the garage. Trying not to give away the sheer terror rising in his chest, to be calm for Wanda, Vision helps her carefully down the stairs, until they're almost at the bottom and she grabs at him, fingers digging into his arm. "It  _hurts_ ," she sobs, sagging against him.

"Just breathe," he says, trying to be calming, rubbing her back. "Like we practiced in class. Do it with me." She starts to follow him after a moment, and he relaxes when she does, straightening herself back up.

"Yep," Barton says from beside the car, Stark already impatiently revving the engine. "Those are real deal contractions if I've ever seen one. You're having those babies."

"I'm very aware of that, Clinton," Wanda says sourly, and Vision smiles seeing a shade of who she is outside of being in pain peeking through. "But if I have my way these two are staying put. Thirty-four weeks is...it's  _too soon_."

"It's going to be okay," Vision promises, and helps her into the backseat of the car, Stark immediately slamming his foot onto the accelerator and sending them roaring into the night the moment the doors slam shut.

Despite blind hope that maybe they're wrong and Wanda's just having an extreme case of Braxton Hicks contractions, Vision counts them getting longer and closer together on the drive to the hospital, rubbing her back and whispering soothing nonsense while she cries quietly into his shoulder. Arriving to the hospital is a seeming blur, Stark taking care of the checking in while Vision comforts Wanda and Clint watches them, and they're immediately rushed to the labour ward. The next time things seem in focus is Doctor Flack looking up at them and saying, "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do to slow this down. Those babies are coming today."

"What?" Wanda asks, tear-stained and already looking exhausted from pain. "But they can't. It's too early!"

"Thirty-four weeks is not a bad place to be in terms of prematurity," Doctor Flack says, her voice soothing and soft. "We'll get the best doctors we have in to take care of you, and if luck is on your side your twins will be fine and they'll have minimal time in the NICU and we can get them home as soon as possible."

"But are they going to be okay?!" Wanda asks, her voice growing high-pitched with fear, and Vision squeezes her hand tightly, pushing away any fear of his own.

"You just concentrate on them, darling, everything is going to be okay," he promises, and she turns to look at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I promise. Our boys are going to be so strong. They have you for a mother."

"You're two centimetres dilated," Doctor Flack says, and gives Wanda a comforting smile. "It's going to be a waiting game for a while. I'll come back to check on you in an hour, hit the call button if anything concerning happens. Keep timing your contractions, keep breathing, you're doing great."

When the door slides shut behind the doctor, Wanda bursts into tears, and Vision leans as close as he can to comfort her, stroking her hair and pressing a kiss to her temple. "This is my fault," she sobs out. "What kind of mother am I if I can't even avoid going into labour long enough that they'll be healthy?!"

"It's not your fault," he insists, holding her hand tightly. "These things just happen. But I promise, they're going to be okay. They're  _our_  children. These doctors have never seen babies from two enhanced before, they don't know what they're talking about. The boys are probably already fully-grown and ready to live in this world."

"It's so sweet that you're making up crap for me," she says, breathless, and he smiles and leans over to kiss her. "Oh God, contraction."

He tries to guide her through the pain, to match his breathing to what they were taught in the childbirth classes and let her squeeze the life out of his hand and rub her back when she asks. As the hours pass by, the night black as ink beyond the small window, as doctors and nurses come and go from the room to check fetal heartrate and Wanda's blood pressure and how dilated she is, he stays at her side, dabbing the sweat away from her face with a damp cloth and pushing away all of his fear and the urge to cry that keeps rising in his throat. He has to be strong for her when she's at her most vulnerable, or he isn't worthy of her love. He has to prove that, no matter how accidental it was, she made the right choice to have the twins with him.

But he can't help the sheer terror that grips him when it gets bad. When she screams in agony, and crushes his hand too tightly, and swears in Sokovian so colourfully he prays no one but him can fully understand her. In those moments, he hates himself for being the reason she's in so much pain, that her breathing is ragged and her face is soaked in sweat and tears. He expects her to turn on him like the women in dramatic TV shows do when in labour, but instead she turns to look at him when she collapses back onto the pillows, gives him a weak smile when he wipes her forehead gently and breathes, "I'm glad you're here."

"We all are," a doctor Vision can't remember the name of says, nodding at him in what seems like respect. "You're going to be a wonderful father."

"Ten centimetres," Doctor Flack says, and gives Wanda a smile. "You're about to become a mom." Turning to Vision, all business, she says, "Do you want to take a quick break before the hard part starts?"

"I..." Vision begins, and glances helplessly at Wanda, exhausted, agony in every inch of her face. "I'll be just a minute. I'll go give Clint and Tony the update."

"Hey," she says softly, and smiles slightly. "You said Tony."

"I did," he says, bewildered, and leans over to kiss her before he leaves her in the care of the two doctors and three nurses filling the room, taking her blood pressure yet again, tapping at the monitor strapped across her bump to watch over the babies.

Leaving the room is like entering a different world, the walls the same sterile white but everything so quiet, the beeping and humming of the machines and the low murmuring of the doctors blocked out as soon as the door closes. The waiting room is quiet, likely because it's four o'clock in the morning, but both Barton and Stark are awake, empty coffee cups filling the floor around their chairs. "How is she?" they ask almost simultaneously when they see him, concern in their eyes.

"We're nearly there," he says, and Barton stands up, crossing the room in long strides to throw his arms around Vision in a hug so unexpected that all Vision can do is stand like a statue in shock.

"I know I've been a shit to you," he says, and he's obviously crying, shoulders shuddering. "But I am  _so proud_  of you! You didn't run away in the face of accidental pregnancy, you stuck by her! You make her so happy, she loves you so much, and you genuinely feel the same way! I'm sorry I ever thought that Wanda was stupid for falling for you. You're an amazing partner to her, Vision. And you're going to be an amazing father."

"I...thank you, Mr. Barton," Vision says, and Clint steps away from him, dragging the back of his hand across his face to wipe his tears away.

"Clint," he says. "It...I would be honoured if you would just call me Clint."

"Clint," Vision repeats, testing how it feels to say that name when he isn't genuinely doing it simply to annoy Barton. "I...I should get back to Wanda."

"Go, go!" Barton insists, grinning. "Everyone should see their first child be born."

Feeling a little lighter, Vision returns to the labour room and Wanda's side, and she turns to give him a genuine smile, shining through how tired she is and how much pain she's in. "How are they doing?" she asks.

"Highly caffeinated," he says, and she lets out a tiny breath of something like a laugh. "I...I think Clint and I may finally be friends."

"And that's the best birth present you could've given me," she says, and despite the IV in her hand, the monitor strapped to her bump and the blood pressure cuff wrapped around her arm she cranes out of the hospital bed to kiss him.

"Speaking of birth," Doctor Flack says, and Wanda leans back on her pillows, "are you ready to push?"

"Yes," she says, straightening up, the same steely determination in her eyes that he recognises from the night they met, that look that made him begin to fall for her. "If I can kill a robot hell-bent on destroying the world, I can give birth to twins."

"Yes you can," he says, squeezing her hand. "I love you."

"I love you too," she says. And the need to talk fades away into the doctor's orders, and everything becomes Wanda gripping his hand, the world spinning knowing that he's about to have a child.

A thin cry fills the room, growing stronger with the passing seconds, and Wanda falls onto her pillows with a sigh of relief. "That's baby boy number one," Doctor Flack says, and the tears spill over before Vision is even aware of prickling, Wanda's hand flying to her mouth when the doctor lifts the baby high enough for them to see him. Their son, a real squirming, crying person. "Congratulations. You're parents."

"Oh my  _God_ ," Vision breathes, unable to find any other words, and smiles at Wanda. "We...we have a  _baby_." One of the nurses brings their swaddled son from being weighed to them, setting him gently in Wanda's arms. Nothing in the world has ever felt the way it does to look at his first child.

"Thomas," Wanda says softly, then glances up at Vision. "I want his name to be Thomas. You pick his middle name."

"Anthony," he says immediately, almost on instinct, and cautiously reaches out to touch the baby, a sob escaping him when, despite being only minutes old, his son curls his hand trustingly around Vision's fingers, blinking at him with the blue eyes of every newborn. "For Mr. Stark. Because he brought us back together."

"Thomas Anthony is cute," she says, then gasps sharply. "Take him. I need to get the other one out."

Lost in looking down at his son's tiny face, trying to find similarities between Thomas and Wanda, or even himself, Vision barely notices the time pass until another wail fills the room, and he starts crying all over again when the nurse sets their second son in Wanda's arms. "William," he breathes, and she nods and smiles.

"William Simon," she says. "For Clint's dad. I'm not subjecting my child to the middle name Clinton."

"I love you so much," he says, barely able to choke the words out through emotion, and carefully leans over to kiss her, overwhelmed with the moment.

"I love you too," she murmurs, and glances down at the baby in her arms. "I did it, Vizh."

"I knew you could," he says, and kisses her once again.

"Both babies are perfectly healthy," Doctor Flack says. "As if they weren't premature at all. It's amazing."

"Well, they are our miracles," Vision says, and Wanda giggles, though it's quiet and exhausted.

"We need a surname for the birth certificates," a nurse says, pen in hand.

"Maximoff," Vision says before Wanda can say anything, and tears fill her eyes. "They're Maximoffs."

"Beautiful," the nurse says, giving them a smile. "Thomas Anthony Maximoff and William Simon Maximoff, born twelve minutes apart in the early hours of Halloween 2016."

"Twelve...twelve minutes?" Wanda is breathless, exhausted, emotional, and glances up at Vision with tears filling her eyes. "Vizh, they're...they're twelve minutes apart."

"You'll have to teach Thomas all Pietro's best jokes," he says softly, and she lets out a sob, clutching William to her chest.

Doctor Flack guides Wanda through the twins' first feed, and another member of staff goes to get Stark and Barton, Vision not eager to leave Wanda's side so soon, staying with her and watching their sons blink at him and their occasional movement. " _Wow_ ," comes the breath of amazement, and Stark crosses the room, hand on Vision's shoulder as he leans over to look at the babies. "You guys make cute kids."

"Thanks," Wanda says, smiling wanly at him. "This is Thomas Anthony Maximoff and William Simon Maximoff."

"Simon like my  _dad_?!"

"Anthony like  _me_?!"

"Yes," Vision says, and Barton's eyes fill with tears, while Stark simply looks shell-shocked. "We wanted to honour the two people who've been the most supportive through all of this."

"I think Thomas is the slightly cuter one," Stark says after a beat of silence, and Barton turns a glare on him rendered mostly ineffectual by the tears in his eyes.

"You just think because he's named after you!" he snaps, then moves to drop a kiss on the top of Wanda's head. "I'm proud of you, kiddo. I guess we better let you sleep."

"Yeah, we should get going," Stark adds. "We'll bring the rest of the team to visit when it's not five am."

"You guys get plenty of rest tonight," Barton says. "New parents, you're gonna need all you can get."

While Wanda may heed that advice and fall into a sound sleep as soon as everyone has left their room, Vision stays awake into the early hours of the morning. Watching his sons sleep in their shared hospital crib, waking up periodically to blink up at him before drifting away again. Loving them more than he ever thought was possible. Vowing to give anything and everything he has to his family.

* * *

The first thing she becomes aware of when she opens her eyes is the all-over ache. The second is Vision's voice, quiet but still filling the silence of the room, and she turns her head on the pillows to see him sitting by the crib, holding one of their babies in his arms. "I remember when I was hours old," he's saying, speaking so earnestly to their son, and she smiles softly. "I was fighting in Sokovia, protecting the people. I was already falling in love with your mother."

"Is that so?" she asks, and Vision starts and turns around to look at her, giving her a smile brighter than the weak attempt at rain-streaked daylight outside. "And yet it still took you a year to even kiss me."

"And just under eighteen months after we first met we have two children, I don't think you should complain about me taking my time to confess my feelings," he says, crossing the room in slow measure steps to sit down at her bedside, still cradling William. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," she says. "Tired. But I have  _never_  been this happy."

"Neither have I," he says, and leans over to kiss her just as a gentle knock comes on the door.

"You have visitors," the nurse outside says, and at a nod from Wanda the door opens to the rest of the team falling inside, bearing cards and balloons and bright smiles on every face.

"They have your nose, Vision," Sam says after an inspection of the babies. "Wanda's face, but your nose."

"I think their eyes are gonna stay blue," Scott says, with the look of half wonder and half deep sadness on his face that Wanda is beginning to recognise will come from other parents when around newborns.

"I bet you they change," Rhodey says. "Twenty bucks say they both end up with green eyes."

"Could we maybe not bet on my children's looks?" Wanda asks, an edge to her voice, and both Scott and Rhodey look suitably ashamed. "Anyway, Avengers, this is Thomas Anthony Maximoff and William Simon Maximoff. Thomas is older by twelve minutes."

"They're adorable," Natasha says, smiling down at them. "You two are so lucky. Two for the price of one."

"We're pretty blessed," Vision says, pressing a kiss to Wanda's temple, and she beams up at him.

"Okay!" Tony says, and produces a bottle of champagne from beneath his jacket just as Rhodey unearths enough glasses for the entire group. "I want to make a toast."

"How  _the hell_  did you get champagne and glasses into a hospital?" Natasha asks, rolling her eyes, and Tony smirks.

"You'd be amazed how far just having the name of Stark can get me in life," he says, carefully pouring out very small glasses. "Wanda? Will you be indulging?"

"I'll have a tiny sip, I'm breastfeeding" she says, and Tony pours the tiniest glass she's ever seen for her. "What are you toasting to?"

"I'll try not to get emotional," he says, and raises his glass. "Wanda, Vision, you two are the newest Avengers. Not just in terms of when you joined, but in terms of how long you've been in this world. When you two joined up, I really wasn't sure if you'd fit well into the group dynamic. But I was wrong. You guys have been amazing members of the team, amazing friends to us all, and now you have a family. The first time two people on the team have had a child together. We all couldn't be happier for you, and we're going to do everything we can to help you transition into being parents. We love you guys."

"We love you too, Stark," Wanda says, smiling at him. "Are you gonna cry?"

"No!" Tony snaps, despite his eyes glistening. "Anyway - everyone, raise your glasses to the Maximoffs."

The team echo, "The Maximoffs," and all drink, and Wanda smiles up at Vision grimacing at his drink and setting it aside. Chairs are found for everyone in the group, sprawling out across the room until the blessed moment comes when Wanda is given the all-clear to leave the hospital, and she can go with the team back the compound, Thomas asleep in her arms and William in Vision's.

It's late afternoon when they lay their babies in their cribs for the first time, ignorant of the playful argument in the kitchen over what to order for dinner. "This is your home, guys," Wanda whispers to the twins, choking up. "And it's full of love."

"And noise," Vision says, glaring at the door at a loud burst of laughter from the kitchen. He slides an arm around her, brushes a kiss to her temple and whispers, "What now?"

"Now?" she repeats, and smiles down at the peacefully sleeping twins. "Now we're a family."

* * *

"Tony, where the hell are you taking us?" Wanda asks irritably, soothing William when he lets out a quiet mewl of a cry. "It's Christmas morning, we have two babies who aren't enjoying the noise and you've dragged us out to God knows where."

"Easy, mama bear, it's just a few more blocks," Stark says, and Vision presses a kiss to Wanda's cheek, keeping a hand on Thomas to try and keep him from crying.

"This better be worth it," Wanda grumbles under her breath to Vision. "I was really looking forward to just having a quiet day with the twins. The first Christmas is supposed to be special."

"It will be!" Stark pipes up from the front seat, and Vision smiles when Wanda rolls her eyes, holding Thomas a little more securely and watching the lights of Christmas flashing by.

Stark brings the car to a stop outside a nondescript apartment block, and Wanda has never looked less impressed that she does climbing out onto the sidewalk, pulling William's hat further down over his head and cradling him tighter to her chest. "So you dragged me and Vizh and our seven week old babies out in the cold to show us apartments?" she asks, sarcasm laced thick through every syllable and eyebrow raised.

"Can't a man try to keep an air of mystery?" Stark asks, and with a dramatic flourish of a gesture leads them through the entry doors. Admittedly, the apartment block is clearly an upmarket one, the elevator in perfect working order, the hardwood floors polished to a high shine and artwork climbing up the walls. Stark leads them into the elevator, pressing the button for the highest floor, and grins smugly to himself while they rise through the floors.

"Welcome to your new home," he says, a split-second before the doors open to the penthouse. High ceilings, beautiful views of Manhattan from the wide windows, and fully furnished, including rugs scattered across the floors and artwork on the walls.

"Mr. Stark, did you say  _our_  home?" Vision asks, looking around in wonder.

"That I did," he says smugly. "Your three-bed, two-bath, penthouse in Manhattan home. Merry Christmas."

"I'm sorry, you...you  _bought_  us an  _apartment_  for Christmas?" Wanda asks, looking around incredulously.

"Technically it was ready at the start of this month, I wanted to give you the keys when the babies were born, but their decision to show up early threw that plan for a loop," Stark says. "So it's your Christmas present instead. I thought you guys might like your own space, y'know, now you're a family. You don't have to live here full time, you can come back and forth between here and the compound, but you have a home now."

"Vizh," Wanda says softly, "could you hold William for a second?"

Carefully adjusting himself to hold both babies, Vision watches nervously as Wanda approaches Stark, her expression unreadable. In a split-second, there are tears in her eyes, and she throws her arms around him, clutching him tightly. "Thank you," she breathes out in a shuddering rush of emotion. "This is so  _generous_ , Tony, how can we ever begin to repay you?"

"Just call me before Barton if you ever need a babysitter," Stark says, and Wanda giggles wetly, releasing him. "Okay, I'll leave you guys to get better acquainted with the apartment. Oh - and the car we drove here in? That's yours too."

"You are  _ridiculous_ ," Wanda says before snatching him into another hug, and Vision smiles to watch them, jogging William gently when he starts to fuss. "Merry Christmas, Stark."

"Merry Christmas, Maximoffs," Stark says, and leaves the apartment, leaving Wanda to take William back and look around the apartment in wonder.

"It's ours," Vision says, and she smiles up at him. "Our boys and our home."

"And our first Christmas as a family," she says, and tilts her head up to kiss him.

The day passes in a blur, opening a fair few boxes of new clothes for their rapidly growing boys, and Wanda immediately insisting on wearing the necklace Vision bought her, blushing when he clasps it for her and drops a kiss on the back of her neck. He makes lunch for them, simple pasta they can eat while the twins nap, and evening is upon them faster than he could've imagined.

"I'll get them," Wanda says when one of the twins starts to wail, and Vision follows her to the room set up waiting with cribs and mobiles and anything they could possibly need for their children. Leaning on the doorframe, he watches with a heart warmed by affection when Wanda lifts each twin by turns from their cribs, feeding them until they let out those little contented sighs he already knows by heart, softly singing to them in Sokovian too fast and colloquial for him to understand.

"What does that song mean?" he asks when Wanda pauses in singing, and she smiles at him softly in the warm glow of the nightlight.

"It doesn't translate perfectly into English," she says, setting Thomas down in his crib again and rebuttoning her shirt. "But everyone I knew in Sokovia who had a child sang it to them. It's a love song. Saying that your love for your child is as certain as the sun rising every morning."

"That's beautiful," Vision says, and crosses the room to kiss her cheek and look down at their sleeping children. "I don't know what I'm going to do when they get older. They're so perfect like this."

"We could always make more," she teases, smiling. "Later. When they're old enough that we can cope with three kids. We'll have to be careful about using protection."

"I did get a message from Mr. Stark telling me that he filled the nightstand drawer in our bedroom with condoms," he says, and she giggles.

"Tony's always looking out for us," she says with a fond roll of her eyes. "You should've told him we haven't gotten back to that part of pre-parenthood life yet."

"Do you want to?" he asks, and she turns to look at him, a smirk curling the corner of her mouth. "We have protections. Doctor Flack cleared you physically last week. And I...I miss being close to you like this. Do...do you want to go to bed?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she says, and tugs him out of the nursery, closing the door softly behind them and jumping into his arms, tangling her legs around his waist and kissing him so passionately he can barely muster the concentration to steer them into the bedroom and lower her onto the bed.

* * *

Wanda smiles affectionately when Vision smothers a yawn, the flickering light of the TV screen illuminating his drooping eyes, and she leans across the couch to kiss his shoulder. "You can go to bed, babe," she says softly. "I won't make fun of you. I just want to finish this episode."

"You're oddly fascinated with TV shows about pregnancy ever since the boys were born," he teases, and she shrugs.

"I just like watching for how much they get wrong about the reality," she says, and he smiles and kisses her gently. "Go to bed, Vizh. I'll come through soon, and I'll check on the boys before I do."

"Okay, fine," he says, as if he wasn't going to give in to her anyway. "Don't get sucked in and wind up staying up too late, darling. I'll come check if you're not in bed in the next hour."

"You'll be asleep in ten minutes," she teases, and he rolls his eyes fondly even as he leans in to kiss her. "I love you."

"I love you too," he says, and kisses her one last time before he disappears behind the couch, the click of a door opening and closing meaning he has gone to bed and she can relax into  _Jane the Virgin_  without him pointing out the logical fallacies of the plot.

She sticks to her promise to him and only finishes the episode she's on, despite the nature of the show begging her to continue onwards and get sucked into the late night of binge watching, turning the TV off and stretching out until her back cracks satisfyingly loudly. Unfolding her legs from beneath her and plumping up the cushion she was curled around, she crosses their floors in her socked feet to the nursery door, easing it carefully open to try and avoid waking the twins and making them scream the apartment down.

She gasps loud enough to wake a baby when she slides the door fully open to Vision waiting in the room, down on one knee and holding out a open velvet box. It's the ring she recognises inside, gold band, red stone bordered by two yellow jewels, and tears spring immediately to her eyes. " _Vision_ ," she breathes, and he smiles at her.

"Wanda, exactly one year ago today you were twenty weeks pregnant with our children, we had been together one week, and I was so determined to never let you go again that I decided to set up a romantic evening alone and ask you to marry me," he says, and she moves closer, never taking her eyes off him, undistracted by Tommy babbling quietly to himself and Billy making cooing noises at his Scarlet Witch bear. "Obviously, that was a mistake. But even in you saying no, you told me that you wanted to marry me, and that you would say yes if I proposed in a year. So here I am, tonight, and everything is different."

Reaching out to take her hand, blinking tears shining in his eyes away, he takes a deep breath and says, "You are everything to me, Wanda. You were the first person I saw, the first person I touched, the first person to treat me like I was something more than just powerful. You were my first friend in this world, and you've given me more happiness than I imagined was possible for someone like me. Now, we have a family together. The day our sons were born was the happiest of my life, and almost nothing could make me happier than to have our children with us. The one thing that could possibly compete would be our wedding day." A tear spills down his cheek, but still he keeps going, voice tremulous with emotion. "I love you more than anything, darling. You are my first love, and I want you to be my last. I want to live my life at your side, being anything and everything you could possibly need until my last breath. I want to be a Maximoff in name, like you and our children. Wanda - will you marry me?"

"Do you seriously think I'm going to say no?" she asks through a sob, and he smiles. "Yes, Vision,  _yes_. God, I love you so much."

"I love you too," he says, sliding the ring onto her waiting finger and gathering her in his arms as he stands up, kissing her on and on while she clings to him and her tears just keep coming.

A particularly loud squeal from Billy makes them break apart, both laughing, and Wanda turns to their children, both looking up and giving her tiny smiles at the sound of her voice. "Did you hear that, boys?" she asks, voice all excitement and energy. "Mama and Daddy are getting married!"

"If that's okay with you," Vision says solemnly, and she giggles. "You know I love her very much. I want to make this commitment to our family."

"You committed the day you found out I was pregnant, Mr. Maximoff," she says sweetly, and he beams at the name.

"That's not my legal name yet, darling," he says, and she grins, pulling him close by the collar of his shirt.

"Don't care," she says, and bring his lips to hers.

* * *

 **A/N:** And that's the end of a monster chapter and a monster fic! This is the longest fic I have ever written, and I hope that every reader, whether commenter or silent, genuinely enjoyed this journey. We've followed Wanda and Vision from the conception of their children to their engagement, and this is the end of this version of their story. Hope to see some of my readers in my others fics. Welcome to 2018 - the year of scarletvision!


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